


Snowflakes, Witches, and Eternity

by HathorAroha



Category: Frozen (2013), Sneedronningen | The Snow Queen - Hans Christian Andersen, The Wizard of Oz & Related Fandoms
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Kid Fic, Multiple Crossovers, suitable for older children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-03-23 13:54:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3770734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HathorAroha/pseuds/HathorAroha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One afternoon, an unexpected blizzard carries little Anna and Elsa to the Land of Oz. The sisters are separated, with Elsa lured into the Snow Queen's embrace and Anna lost somewhere in Oz. While Elsa stays in the Snow Queen's castle, Anna searches Oz for her beloved sister, whose heart has been turned to ice. Anna must find Elsa before it is too late and she loses her for good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Once upon a time in the mid-1930s, there was a simple home in a simple suburb with a simple family. The family had a mother, father, and two precious little girls—no sons—, the elder of whom possessed breath-taking magical snow powers. The sisters were three years apart in age, the elder—Elsa—twelve, and the younger—Anna—nine. In all this quiet little suburb, one could not find a pair of sisters as close as Anna and Elsa. Wherever one went, the other would go. They did everything and went everywhere together. They shared their deepest secrets and promised to always be together even when they were a thousand years old. They played make-believe, climbed tall trees, picked flowers from the garden when their parents weren’t looking, and spent as much time as possible enjoying each other’s company and love. It would be a Herculean challenge indeed to find a pair of sisters who were even nearer and dearer to each other than Anna and Elsa.

Anna loved her sister very much, _especially_ her magnificent wintry magic. Her beautiful older sister could cover the garden in snow in the middle of summer and cause snowflakes to drift from the ceiling indoors in any season she chose. She could do snowball fights and build snowmen in the height of a mucky mid-summer’s afternoon if she so wished.

Many nights, at the strike of midnight, the two sisters would sneak up to the empty, dusty attic and enjoy hours of wintry fun. When the moon was full and hanging in the sky at the perfect angle, little shafts of light would gleam through miniscule cracks between the wooden frames of the walls. The attic’s window was always dirty, with old cobwebs sticking to the glass panes, long ago abandoned by the spiders that had built them. At the end of these thrilling nights, Elsa always made sure to tuck Anna back in bed well before their parents arose at the crack of dawn. Anna never woke before dawn even if she didn’t have a night of frivolity, for she was not what a person would describe as a “morning person”. Elsa, meanwhile, didn’t need much sleep, still bright-eyed and bushy-tailed even after three or four hours’ slumber.

For all Elsa’s twelve years and Anna’s nine, neither stopped to wonder if magic existed anywhere else in the world. Only Elsa was known to have such powers, except for a possible great-aunt on her mother’s side rumoured to have had possessed magic of her own, perhaps just like Elsa’s snow and frost. Little they knew of magic that existed in a fantastical world that only one other little girl and her dog had visited. Elsa and Anna had never met Dorothy and her dog Toto, and little chance existed for them to do so, for they lived very far away from the two sisters.

 

Our adventure begins on one pleasantly quiet Sunday afternoon. The family had just finished a scrumptious midday meal, and the parents had retreated to their bedroom to sleep off their lunch. Elsa and Anna stayed outside, playing in the modest garden at the back of the house. At this time of day, warm sunbeams layered the smooth, swept wooden floor of the veranda. The flowers sitting in flower-pots on the veranda nodded in the gentle breeze that was neither too hot nor cold. Nevertheless, a strange chill began edging its way into the otherwise pleasant afternoon weather. The girls, too involved in their leisure time, did not notice the swirling dark clouds creeping over the blue sky, a freak storm on an otherwise beautiful day.

After a time of play, Anna, who wore a green short-sleeved dress with a simple white bow on its collar, shivered a little in the dropping temperatures. Elsa was never fooled by Anna’s attempts to hide her shivers. Shading her eyes with a hand, Elsa tilted her head back, spotting the billowing clouds swallowing the sky. Drops of rain plopped on the grass and splattered in dark spots on the veranda. Petals fluttered under the weight of fat raindrops that began to fall even harder with each passing second until it nearly torrential. Elsa took Anna’s hand, tugging her toward the veranda’s shelter.

“Let’s get you inside and warm, Anna,” Elsa coaxed as she took in Anna’s now soaked dress. When the sisters reached the closed door, Elsa gripped the knob with a free hand, trying to pull it open even as she still talked to Anna. “Mother would be unhappy if you caught a cold out here.”

Just as Elsa managed to get the door open, an unexpected, powerful gust of wind yanked it out of her fingers. The deafening slam startled a flock of birds into the sky, crying and flapping against the driving downpour. Clinging to her sister with one hand, Anna reached an arm forward to help Elsa open the door again. Their hair came loose from once neatly plaited hair, whipping across their faces and obscuring their vision as they fought with the stubborn door.

“Anna, pull harder!”

Anna pulled, grimacing as she leaned back, feeling the door giving a mere few millimetres under her one hand and Elsa’s two. They only managed to pry it open a few inches before the wind shoved a heavy hand against the door, slamming it shut again. Their old cat, Tom, shot out from under some bushes, spooked by the door’s slam and the terrible weather.

Now rain turned into sleet that stuck in their hair, and turned the summer wind into a strong winter’s blizzard that pierced Anna’s very bones. Already, her fingers were numb from the cold, her eyes shut tight against the howling blizzard. Her hands were so cold that she could neither feel the knob under one palm nor Elsa’s clothing as she clung on to her big sister.

“Nearly there!” Elsa shouted above the raging storm, “Go in!”

Finally the door gaped open, inch by inch until it was wide enough for a little girl to squeeze through. Elsa reached back and grabbed her sister’s arm, pulling the shivering girl forward.

“Get inside!” Elsa insisted, pushing Anna forward into the doorway, “And get mama to get you warm!”

On the threshold, Anna, clinging on to the doorway, reached to take Elsa’s hand. The older girl let go of the handle, stretching blindly toward Anna’s hand. Little fingers gripped Elsa’s wrist, the little girl straining with a grunt of effort to pull Elsa inside, out of the howling blizzard so thick with sleet that Elsa appeared like nothing more than a ghost. Anna tugged hard, locking her foot against the inside of the doorframe. She shut her eyes tight against the whipping blizzard, her hair smacking into her damp face as the wind snatched at the girls.

Then, with a small yelp, Elsa lost her footing, nearly taking Anna down with her as she slipped forward, shoes scrabbling on wet wood. Her fingers clamped down on Anna’s, but, being slick with sleet and water, she began to lose her grip. Anna’s grip wasn’t as strong or as big as Elsa’s, and the younger sister’s fingers began sliding away.

“Elsa!”

“No!” Elsa yelled over the howling blizzard threatening to yank her away, “Go inside!”

Anna shook her head defiantly. She pulled on Elsa’s fingers with both hands, leaning right back, bracing herself against the doorframe.

“Hold on!”

And then the wind _screamed_ as though furious that it couldn’t tug Elsa away from her beloved sister. With one final ear-splitting shriek, it grabbed Elsa’s legs and yanked them from the ground, pulling upward as though to steal her away. The force of this final yank was enough to make Elsa’s fingers slip all the way through Anna’s, and suddenly she was flying away in the icy storm cloud.

“Anna!” she shouted as the wind carried her away, “Anna stay home!”

“ _Elsa!_ ” Anna screamed up into the blizzard, tearing herself away from the doorframe, “Elsa!”

“No!”

Elsa watched with a mix of horror and dismay as Anna tore from the veranda and into the heart of the storm. Of course she would throw herself into danger, and oh dear Lord in Heaven, what if now their parents found two missing daughters?

“Anna!”

“I’m not letting you get lost!”

“Stay where you are!” Elsa got a mouthful of sleet for her troubles. Spitting out the sleet, she tried in vain to look for Anna, even as she tumbled head over heels in the whirling storm.

_Please be home, please be home, please be home!_

Of course Anna would not stay home if it meant trying to help her sister. Of course she wouldn’t stay behind if it meant still being there with her sister no matter what happened. Elsa tried to squint and strain her eyes into the white mess of sleet and frozen rain buffeting her in every direction. She no longer knew what was up and what was down, nor did she know where earth and sky were relative to her position. For all she knew, the sky was below and the earth above.

_Where are you, Anna?_

Did she catch a glimpse of red pigtails flailing in the blizzard? Was that a catch of cloth with yellow sunflowers whipping in the wind? Did she really see a little hand trying in vain to reach for her?

“Anna?”

“Anna!”

_Maybe she’s stayed home like I told her._

But then out of the maelstrom came a shaky voice.

“Elsa?”

“Anna!” Elsa cried out, her hands grabbing in every direction. “Where are you?”

_Oh dear Lord in Heaven, she should have stayed home!_

“I’m in the storm!” Anna shouted back, “I’m looking for you!”

“You should have stayed home!” Elsa chided.

Anna didn’t listen, her voice shouting as loud as possible above the blizzard.

“I’m coming!”

Elsa still searched blindly in the blizzard for her sister.

“Anna, where are you?”

A little hand stuck out of the whirling storm inches from her nose. At once, Elsa grabbed it, clinging on as tight as she could. She would not lose her little sister in this horrid blizzard. She focussed on the hand, the little fingers gripping on to Elsa’s. Elsa’s hair flapped over her head, into her mouth, over her eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut, hanging on to Anna’s hand for dear life. For her _sister’s_ dear life.

“I’ve got you!” Elsa shouted above the swirling gale, “Don’t let go.”

The wind shrieked again with renewed rage and strength. With malice in the storm’s screech of rage, the blizzard grabbed the sisters’ hands and tore them apart, flinging them far from each other before they could even react. When they realised what happened a second later, both—though they could not see the other—attempted to find each other again, Anna and Elsa tumbling head over heels in the maelstrom. Anna fought her way to Elsa, though she could not tell if up was down or left was right anymore. Elsa could be above or below her.

But even as the sisters desperately clawed their way toward each other, the gale-force winds pressed invisible hands on their chests, pinning them down like a cat does to a caught mouse. The sisters shouted, screamed to each other, trying to hear their voices, grab for their hands blindly. They might as well have been countries and oceans apart from each other from all the good their flailing hands did. In truth, both the girls were now flying and tumbling miles above a new land that none from our world but a little girl with silver slippers and a little dog had ever visited before.


	2. Chapter Two

The cold never bothered Elsa—usually. Now needles of cold startled goose-bumps into existence on the flesh of her arms. For the first time, she could feel a curious numbness in the tips of her fingers, toes, and nose. Her heart hammered, afraid that Anna would get frostbite. If it took her this long to feel numbing chill at the tips of her fingers and toes, surely Anna, who didn’t have ice powers, would have felt the cold much sooner. Elsa prayed that Anna would not succumb to frostbite.

The wind screamed in her ears, her dress billowing and flapping like an umbrella in a gale. Her hair pulled away from her head and whipped across her face so she could barely see anything as the blizzard relentlessly carried her on to…wherever she would end up. She tried to gauge where she was being blown to, and judging by the frigid temperatures that had even Elsa shivering, she assumed it was not to a tropical place.

_Am I being blown to the North Pole?_

The numbing sensation of chill like she’d never known scared her—and cold had never terrified her before.

_Anna! Where are you?_

She wiped her eyes free of sleet, squinting down to try and find her sister whose red hair would single her out at once.

“Anna?!” she hollered, heart pounding fit to burst from her ribcage, “ _Anna!_ ”

This was her fault— _all_ her fault. If she lost Anna, her parents would never forgive her. _Elsa_ would never forgive herself. She tried not to imagine Anna lost deep in some scary forest with bears and wolves ready to hurt her at any moment. She forced herself not to think that she was forever lost—Anna _had_ to have survived somehow! Elsa knew that wherever Anna was, her safety was not assured in the slightest.

Opening her mouth, Elsa yelled her sister’s name as loud as possible until her throat was raw from her shouting. Yet, for all her panicked shouts, the screaming blizzard snatched Anna’s name from her lips, scattering it into the incomprehensible howling. Elsa began to despair as nothing except the blizzard answered her desperate calls for her little precious sister.

Then, with no warning, the blizzard ceased whipping at her, dying down to a strong, but curiously pleasant in warmth, wind. Elsa chanced a glance earthwards, stomach lurching as she did so. Miles of featureless desert plains yawned in every direction. Sparse dots of shrub with bare, cracked limbs interrupted the otherwise featureless desert. Elsa squinted, trying in vain to spot a familiar red-head. Maybe she hadn’t been lost in a forest or Siberia’s icy tundra after all. Maybe she too had been wafted into the hot desert in—Elsa assumed—Africa. Her lips were already parched and dry from the arid heat, and her voice was naught but a whisper as she attempted to call for Anna again.

The air roiled hot, glimmering in every direction, and above her, the brilliant blue sky appeared to shimmer like water. The oppressive heat didn’t bother Elsa for long, as she calmed herself enough to remember that her powers could keep her cool as well. Summoning her magic, Elsa allowed a veneer of frost to cover her hands and neck, cooling her down a little in the hostile environment.

_Where are you, Anna?_

Suddenly, Elsa found herself going over an abrupt change of ground texture, with a fine veneer of ice meeting sand at a border. Where the ice began, the desert ended, with not one grain of sand blown onto the transparent surface. The ice’s transparency allowed Elsa to observe solid yellow ground millimetres below it. She let her gaze travel over the buildings and plant-life, and her jaw opened in surprise.

For, in truth, the whole land was cocooned with all shades of yellow imaginable. They ranged from the deepest hues like the most eye-gripping of sunsets to shades so light one might mistake it as white until they took a closer look. Trees stretched up, all yellow down to the smallest bud, leaf, and twig. Flowers were all different shapes and sizes, with one colour in common. Buildings of unique shapes, sizes, and materials were painted with yellow—roofs, windows, doors, walls, and all. Brick walls, tin roofs, and wooden doors were all painted in differing swirls and patterns of yellow shades. Some were painted with creative swirls of different shades, while others were one solid block of the same hue. Occasional catches of colour darted between trees and sprinted across the landscape, but otherwise, the blue sky with its scuttling white clouds was the only other colour in this strange new country.

A small mountain range with rocks a deep yellow so as to appear formed of solid gold rose between the desert and the curious iced-over land. Snatches of plant life struggled through the cracks and crevices between the rocks in the mountains. These mountain ranges had the effects of two completely different climates. One half had rocks baking under a merciless sun, whilst the other side of the mountain ranges was covered in perpetually falling snow. Snow lay on the rocks of the icy slopes like thick, woollen blankets. Could her sister have been blown here?

The wind still carried her, lower now, but still many metres above the ground. Elsa began to believe that this blizzard, or wind, or whatever it was, had a mission. Therefore, Elsa reasoned, this was no ordinary gust.

_Where has it taken Anna?_

Elsa struggled fervently against the carrying, mobile storm that paid no heed to any of her desperate shouting or flailing. She wanted to be let down _now,_ just so she could find some grown-ups to help her find Anna. Surely adults would help, as they knew more about the world and how to find missing little girls and boys better than she did. A grunt of frustration escaped her throat as her struggling proved fruitless.

“Let me go!” Elsa pleaded to the deaf air, “I need to find my sister!”

Raising her hands, Elsa forced magic from her palms, praying it would help her escape the wind’s clutches. If she put all her strength into it, she could create a blizzard powerful enough to ease her gently onto the ground still so many metres below. She blasted icicles in every direction, trying to force her feet to find ground again. Again, all her efforts felt to be in vain, for snow flurries were simply swirled straight back into her eyes. She summoned as much power as possible, trying anything she could to escape this oddly sentient whirlwind tugging her closer and closer to some mysterious destination.

The features of the landscape raced below her, but she did not linger her attention on even the most unusual buildings, including a palace made entirely of tin and a mansion in the precise shape of a corn-cob. Ahead of her loomed a giant castle with half a dozen spires. Unlike the other buildings, its stones were grey and cold, with a dank, miserable atmosphere about it. Her feet were not so high up any more, and she could almost feel the ground under her feet and the tug of gravity trying to pull her down.

“Anna!” Elsa shouted as loud as possible, “ANNA!”

Still she found no sign of her little red-headed sister.

“What have you done to her?!” Elsa railed at the relentless storm, “Where’s Anna?!”

Panic rose sharp in Elsa, ice and frost flying everywhere even as she felt herself being lowered down with a surprisingly gentle free fall. She wasn’t prepared when her feet hit solid ground.

“Oof!”

Unprepared for impact, her knees buckled. Instinctively, she shot out her hands, breaking her fall with a surprised little gasp. Her heart thudded full gallop in her chest as she stared without seeing at the ice crackling over damp grey stones. Her powers bloomed out of her control, fresh frost on icy stones and earth. She clenched her shaking fists to her chest, trying to stop trembling all over.

“Okay, Elsa,” she said aloud to herself, “calm down. You can do this.”

Hearing her own voice seemed to bring a semblance of calm into her heart. Its galloping gait slowed down a smidgeon. Gradually, the ice slowed its blooming pace, though it didn’t stop, powered by the poor girl’s fear for Anna’s safety and whereabouts. She tried to will herself to control the magic, yet it still crawled up the stone wall and wooden door a few metres ahead of her.

“Control it,” she coached herself, “control it!”

_Think of Anna, think of Anna, think of Anna…think of building snowmen with her…_

She opened her eyes—the ice hadn’t slowed down any less. It tingled in the depths of her bones and under the tips of her fingers and in her palms. She had no idea why thinking of Anna didn’t work—usually just thinking of her little sister could stop her ice from whirling out of her control, growing too powerful for even Elsa to rein in.

_Anna, help me,_ she pleaded, trembling inside, _wherever you are, please be safe! Please be alive! What if…_

“No!”

Elsa clamped her hands to the sides of her head, pushing back down on her growing panic. Something constricted over her ribcage and her stomach churned as though it suddenly decided it _hadn’t_ liked lunch after all.

Opening her eyes, Elsa forced herself to focus on what looked like a very ancient castle before her. Lowering her hands from her temples, Elsa pushed herself to a standing stance, eyes wide as she drank in the view before her.

The castle’s façade spoke of having borne witness to many generations passing away in the history of this foreign land. Old, scattered words were etched into the stone, and imprints of wear and tear left chips and breakages on the castle and stone pathway leading to the architectural giant. Strings of old cobwebs threaded over the grimy window panes. Elsa spotted yellow draperies with purple polka dots at one of the windows far above her, at least three stories up. Another window opposite this first one sported honey-coloured curtains tied back with black strings. Elsa craned her neck, and bent her back far enough to see at least two of the castle’s spires. The spires sat upon the castle walls, looking rather like a giant had heaped delicious banana ice-cream on the castle. The spires looked dull in the sunlight, as though they had lost their gleam and polish countless eons ago. Elsa imagined that once, hundreds of years ago, the banana spires might have shone with pride in the light of the sun or a full moon.

Elsa searched for any signs of life beyond the windows and in the gardens that she could see, first casting her eyes on the small patch of nature hugging the corner of the castle. She could not see any hints that a gardener had tended the grounds gardens for a _very_ long time. Drab yellow-brown weeds tangled over drooping rosebushes and strangled other plants that had tried to grow in the parched earth.

Returning her attention to the windows, Elsa squinted as hard as she could through the dusky interiors and glare from the sunlight hitting the panes. Perhaps some shifting shadow or face appearing at the window would provide her answer. Even a dog barking inside would be as good a hint as any for Elsa. But try as she might, Elsa did not see any hints that someone resided in the castle at all. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t still try to see if someone was home anyway. Maybe an adult lived there who could help her look for Anna. Grown-ups seemed to know everything— _nearly_ everything—and Elsa felt that if a very helpful adult was living in the castle, she could find her sister far quicker.

Steeling her courage, the little girl trotted up the steps, her blonde plait flipping over her shoulder as she hurried to the yellow double doors. Under her feet, a trail of ice left imprints of her path up the steps, stopping abruptly before the door.

_That’s curious,_ she thought, _why doesn’t this castle have a doorbell like lots of other houses?_

There wasn’t a knocker attached to the wood to bang against the door either. Elsa raised a fist and knocked firmly once, twice, thrice, on the pale yellow doors. To her surprise, the door opened with a loud groan, as though rousted from a deep sleep. It swung on slow hinges, gradually revealing a long, dim hallway with yellow carpeting. Having never been in a castle before, Elsa could only gape in awe as she stared up and up at the ceiling high above her.

_This is the biggest castle I’ve seen._

She began to step onto the threshold, but hesitated.

_Better check my shoes before going inside._

With great care, Elsa wiped her shoes back and forth on the ground, wishing there were a mat to do this on. But the icy ground would have to do. After double-checking that the soles of her shoes were clean, Elsa permitted herself to go inside, the door closing of its own accord behind her. The first thing that caught her attention when she stepped inside was the sheen of ice and frost covering walls, ceiling, and floor. Her feet glided over a thin layer of frost coating the yellow carpet with its pale snowflakes. Ice slicked over the walls, encasing picture frames and flameless torches. High above, faint traces of frost covered the ceiling. Golden chandeliers with little candles hung motionless from the ceiling, all their wicks flameless too. Elsa wrinkled her nose as the smell of old mould and rot hit her, the taste of grime thick on her tongue.

She stopped to take very brief glances into rooms whose doors stood wide open, seeing more yellow carpets, ornamentations on window sills, and empty beds with sunset-hued blankets. Even though she was very interested in the rooms, Elsa still listened for anyone walking around, maybe deep in conversation as they headed to their next destination. But she was too cautious to shout or call out, not wanting to sound rude. She always had to be a good girl, the best role model she could be for Anna.

_Where is everyone?_

She went around another corner, and came face to face with a blank wall—a dead end. Elsa jumped when she saw someone moving around in that wall, only to realise it was her reflection in a mirror. She frowned—her hair was a _mess_ , and little wonder after being in that awful blizzard! She fancied her hair worse than _Anna’s_ bed-head. Elsa tugged the hair-tie off the end of her long braid, undoing her hair-style. She had lots of practice with doing her hair, so it didn’t take long to comb and tug her hair into some semblance of tidiness with her fingers before she re-plaited it.

_That looks much—_

Suddenly, a crack shot diagonally across the mirror, and part of it shattered, blowing outwards in a small explosion, straight at Elsa. She gasped and stumbled back, turning to run away. There was a cackle, though she saw nobody around. Her heart pounded, and she stumbled as she tried to get as far away as possible. The castle was obviously haunted, for who but a ghost could shatter a mirror out of nowhere?

_I have to get out of here!_

Something unseen tripped her up, sending Elsa flying. With an “oof!”, she tumbled to the floor, stunning her for a few seconds. She covered her mouth as dust billowed around her, getting into her eyes. Elsa rubbed her eyes furiously, trying to dislodge what felt like a little eyelash stuck in one of them. Then that discomfort was gone, like she had got the lash out. At the same time, a cut seared across her chest. She gasped, clenching both hands over her heart, as a sudden feeling of extreme chill billowed in her chest. Elsa had never felt such cold before, so cold that it took her breath away for several moments. Her whole body shivered like she had a fever. There was no pain, just the horrible discomfort in the region of her heart, like a physical ache. It was over in seconds, but still the discomfort lingered with each _lub-dub_ of her heart, and she felt at once hot and cold.

Elsa stood up, arms crossed over her torso, rubbing her upper limbs to try and get back some warmth. She chanced a little glance back at the mirror—that terrible, out-of-place wall ornamentation with its ghastly cracks on its surface. What were the owners _thinking_ putting up such an eye-sore in their castle? A whole portion of it had fallen away, little motes of glass shards piled on the carpet below with its ugly shade of yellow.

Now Elsa tried to think what she had come here to do, but her brain came up with nothing.

_What was I wanting here?_

She tried to come up with the reason, but still her brain came up with nothing.

_What was I looking for?_

Then—she remembered. Anna. Her little sister who had disobeyed her when she told her to stay home. She came with Elsa anyway in that horrid little blizzard, because she didn’t want to be apart from her. Maybe Elsa should have locked her door today, told Anna to go away.

_Why did I want to play with her anyway?_

She was a naughty child, who didn’t stay home like Elsa ordered her to. Elsa knew that Anna was lost somewhere, she didn’t know where, but maybe she would learn to stay home when told to next time.

_Always tagging after me,_ Elsa criticised, _always wanting to play with me, always so clingy!_

Elsa brought up her hand and did the magic, snowflakes hovering over her hand. For the first time in her life, she didn’t see anything magical in it.

_This is magic for little children._

Why did she need snow powers anyway? Snowmen and snowball fights were for children. She was a grown-up girl of twelve now. She let the snowflakes drift to the ground, and instead let ice now shoot out of her palms, hitting the walls before her. She froze as a voice called from another room.

“Welcome to my castle, my child.”

Her voice was as alluring as a Siren’s. Elsa’s bitterness faded as she took a few curious steps forward in the direction of the lilting tones. She trusted the owner of that voice, though she had no idea who it was. It sounded like her mother calling her, though Elsa knew that was impossible. Nevertheless, it was still as motherly and warm as her own maternal parent’s.

“Come inside. My throne is near.”

It didn’t take long for Elsa to track down the room where the voice sung from. The room where the lady’s voice had sailed from had an archway of pure, solid ice. The interior, the furniture, and the throne on which the woman sat were all pure ice. The throne itself sat on the surface of a great frozen lake stretching from one side of the room to the other. Sculptures with uniquely fine features stood in different poses—all standing—around the throne room. Curiously, the sculptures didn’t look happy, and most of them had their backs turned to the throne, as though they had just begun to exit before being turned into ice. But that was silly. People couldn’t be turned into ice statues. Elsa tilted her head, staring at the curious statues. They _looked_ human, but there were still some significant differences, like some were very small and others almost sprite-like.

Yet, even the most beautiful of sculptures or geometrical designations wasn’t what caught Elsa’s eyes. What did capture her attention was the gorgeous, alluring woman, perhaps a little older than her own mother, who reclined on the throne of frost with a small, warm smile. Her eyes were a very pale blue, unaffected by the smile sitting on the woman’s lips as red as strawberries. Thick white locks framed her face and was bundled up at the back of her head into a messy bun. But there was nothing more beautiful than her warm greeting drawing Elsa into the embrace of her home.

“Good afternoon, my child,” she crooned, “I am so glad you’re here at last.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

Elsa couldn’t speak for a minute, awestruck by the woman’s arresting beauty. She opened her mouth, willing words to come forth, and closed it when no words came. She could not tear her eyes away from the woman’s alluring beauty, endowed in a luscious white dress with layers of sequins in the shapes of snowflakes. Her earrings were also snowflakes made out of pure ice. It seemed to Elsa that everything this curious woman wore was made out of ice. Her snowflake necklace and its chain were crafted from delicate ice, just as the rest of the lady’s accessories, clothes, and high-heel shoes poking from under her dress’s hem were.

“Who are you?” Elsa whispered.

The woman’s smile thinned, red lips shrinking from fullness into a hard line. The temperature in the room dropped several degrees.

“Do you mean to say you do not know who I am?”

Elsa flinched at her words’ iciness; as though sensing her worry, the woman’s expression softened. Now she looked kinder, less intimidating.

“I did not mean to offend you,” Elsa apologised in a small voice.

The lady chuckled without humour.

“ _Quite_ the opposite, my child.” With one regal movement, the woman stood up. Her height and way of carrying herself, even just standing still, made for an imposing figure.

“You still haven’t said who you are,” Elsa said, voice still small and timid.

A flourish of the queen’s hands and snowflakes the size of pigeons fell from the ceiling. Elsa gaped as she looked up—this woman had snow powers just like her!

_I’ve found someone just like me, and she is awfully kind too._

“I am the Snow Queen,” she announced grandly, “A lonely woman longing for the companionship of a child who has the power of snow and ice just as I do.” Now the woman bowed her head, an indulging smile pulling her mouth upwards. “And at long last, you have come to me.”

“How did you know I have powers?”

“I can sense others with snow magic like mine,” the Snow Queen explained, “And you are the first I have known for a long time.” Now she lowered herself so she was at Elsa’s height. “Now my dear child, what is your name?”

“Elsa.”

“Did you come here to Oz alone?”

Elsa blinked at her, confused. She didn’t know of any place named Oz.

“You do not know of Oz? Pity, that,” the snow queen shook her head, “Oz is the great and mysterious land beyond your world, surrounded by a deadly desert.”

“I can imagine,” Elsa agreed, “Deserts are very dangerous—there are scorpions and snakes for a start.”

“Scorpions? Snakes? What are these things you speak of?”

“You don’t have them here?”

“No, I cannot imagine we do. They are of your world?”

“They are very dangerous creatures that live in the desert,” Elsa explained, “Scorpions have large stings on their tails, and snakes are…legless lizards.”

The Snow Queen’s eyes widened in alarm. “Oh my, the poor things. How do snakes manage to move without limbs?”

“They…slide along,” Elsa shrugged, “Snakes move in winding patterns.”

“Oh…I see,” said the woman, though she still looked confused, “Ah, never mind all that now, Elsa. Now, tell me, did you come to Oz alone?”

“No, I was with my sister, Anna. She kept tagging after me.”

“Do you still want to look for her?”

Elsa frowned, folding her arms, eyes looking up at the older woman from under furrowed eyebrows.

“Not now,” she declared, “she deserved to be lost.”

A gleam twinkled in the Snow Queen’s dark blue eyes, but it was gone before Elsa could ask what had pleased her so much.

“We needn’t worry now,” the woman soothed, “you are with me now. This castle could be your new home if you so desired.”

Elsa cast another glance around the room, marvelling at the delicate patterns of frost on the windows like the breath of Jack Frost. Snow still fell from the ceiling, settling on Elsa’s little shoulders and thick blonde hair. At last, she had someone else to talk to who also had snow powers. Her sister didn’t have any magic at all. People without magic weren’t very fun—quite boring, really. She still puzzled over the statues. Pointing them out, Elsa directed another question at her new friend.

“Did you make those sculptures yourself?’

The Snow Queen narrowed her eyes, her warmth evaporating without warning.

“Do not ask me again about the statues.”

Elsa bit her lip, cringing, lowering her head. “Yes, Snow Queen.”

The Snow Queen reached out a soft hand and patted Elsa’s head. The kindness in her face reappeared like nothing had happened.

“Good girl,” she purred, “So understanding.”

Elsa quickly decided to bring the conversation back to a previous topic, a much safer one that her friend had seemed happy to talk about.

“Can you tell me more about Oz?”

“I certainly can, if you would like to hear about it tomorrow. Surely you are very weary from your journey?”

Elsa had not paid a single thought to whether she was tired, but now a weight of fatigue settled upon her. She yawned, rubbing her eyes. The Snow Queen smiled down at her with great indulgence.

“Poor child, you really _are_ tired,” she said, “come and you can sleep at my feet. But first, let me kiss you, as I ought.”

And the Snow Queen planted a tender kiss on one of Elsa’s cheeks. The girl tried not to shiver for the kiss was colder than anything she’d felt before. An icicle of cold shot through her, and though she wasn’t aware of it, her heart transformed completely into ice. But with the kiss came a strange warmth, like the icy room had thawed in the heat of a summer sun. Elsa no longer felt the extreme cold from the Snow Queen’s arguably more powerful magic. Maybe someday Elsa’s own magic could be as powerful as her new friend’s.

The Snow Queen’s second kiss—planted on Elsa’s other cheek—caused the girl to forget all about home and everyone she loved. She no longer recalled—or missed—the acres of free space to run around and play in the suburbs, nor the modest little working-class house she called home for all her life. She didn’t remember building snowmen or ice-skating with Anna, nor did she remember her mother and father’s love. Her beloved sister might as well have been a stranger she once passed on some nameless gravel road. Her parents might be some other couple in love living on the other side of the suburb. Her heart was now completely frozen, but Elsa did not freeze—not yet.

“I should not kiss you a third time,” the Snow Queen said, “For it shall be fatal if I did so.”

Elsa looked at her with questions in her eyes. “How?’

“You shall pass from this world if I kiss you again. But let us now dwell on happier things, my dear child.”

And taking Elsa’s hand, the Snow Queen grandly gestured to a space at the foott of her throne.

“You may sleep here, my child, and we shall talk together. You are welcome in my home.”

Elsa walked to the foot of the queen’s throne where she sat down on the step that the Snow Queen wished her to settle on. Awe still in her eyes, Elsa gazed up at the Snow Queen.

“Now, what do you wish to know of my country?” purred the queen.

“Everything.”

The Snow Queen’s eyebrows shot up. “Really, child? And do you know all there is to know of your world?”

“No, it’s impossible.”

“And so it is the same with the Land of Oz. One—except that witch Glinda—cannot possibly know all there is to know of Oz.”

“Is there a reason everything here is yellow?”

Snow Queen shrugged. “The Winkies are obsessed with the colour yellow. I don’t fancy it myself, and have always meant to change the carpeting and draperies in this old castle.”

“What are the Winkies?”

The Snow Queen’s gaze flickered to the statues. “They are people who live here. The only thing they ever do here is work with tin. They _worship_ the Tin Man in his castle.”

“Who is the Tin Man?”

“Think, child. What does his name imply to you?”

Elsa, having had met no one made out of tin or straw in her world, simply gave her answer.

“He works with tin.”

“He _is_ tin, and since the Wicked Witch has died, they have designed a castle of tin for him to reside in and asked him to be their new ruler.”

“But…aren’t you a queen?”

The Snow Queen sniffed, warmth absent in her eyes. “I suspect they are scared of me. The Winkies will run from their own shadows if it startles them enough.”

“I’m not scared of you.”

Maybe a teensy-weensy bit, but not much.

“Thank you, my dear, you are the first to not be afraid in my presence.” The Snow Queen paused, inviting Elsa to offer another question.

“Is the Winkies’ country the only part of Oz?”

“Why no, child, there are three other lands in Oz. We are in the West, in the old castle of the Wicked Witch of the West.”

“The Wicked Witch of the West?”

“She died not long ago, but she was very old. She held the Winkies under her rule, asking them to do work for her, which they willingly did. Then a little girl threw water over her, melting her, on the old Wizard of Oz’s request.”

And so Elsa asked more questions, the Snow Queen revealing to her of the different locales of the lands and their peoples. Elsa learned of the Emerald City that glowed so bright and green that everyone who visited or lived there had to wear sunglasses day in, day out, lest they were blinded. The Emerald City, Elsa also learned, was where the Wizard of Oz lived. The Emerald City was nestled at the centre of four lands, including the Snow Queen’s homeland. The Munchkins—whose favourite colour was blue—lived in the East, the Gillikins country—great lovers of the colour purple—to the North, and finally the red-loving Quadlings—where Glinda the Good Witch resided—lived in the South.

All of this talk of geography and many different lands and people begun to make Elsa drowsy. She tried to remember everything the Snow Queen said, but it mixed up in her memory. She began to think the Quadlings in the North and couldn’t remember whether the Gllikins were fond of red or purple.

“Who is Glinda the Good?” Elsa asked very sleepily.

“I do not speak of her,” the Snow Queen said, “but my goodness, dear child, you are really tired. Come, lie down at the foot of my throne, and there you shall have sweet dreams.”

Grateful for the Snow Queen’s generosity, Elsa lay down at the foot of the throne, where she closed her eyes. She didn’t see the glimmer of triumph in the Snow Queen’s cold gaze as she reached out long fingers to stroke Elsa’s hair.

“Have sweet dreams, my little companion,” she murmured, “I am grateful you have chosen to stay. I shall not be so lonely anymore.”

Elsa drifted off into a deep slumber, feeling very safe and secure in the hospitality of her new friend. Not once did she think of or dream about her little sister lost elsewhere in Oz.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter, we finally find out what happened to Anna...


	4. Chapter 4

Meanwhile, in the land of the Quadlings, located south of the Winkies’ land, a little red-headed girl found herself dumped unceremoniously in a thick forest. She yelped and winced as the wind dissipated as fast as a wink, Anna tumbling to the earth below. Anna hauled herself upright, brushing off leaves and twigs from her little dress, looking around as she did so, turning a full circle. There was no sign of Elsa.

“Elsa!” she shouted anyway, “Elsa, where are you?”

No response. Maybe she should shout louder.

“Elsa! Elsa, where are you? Answer me!”

There was still no answering call, no flash of blonde hair and blue eyes. Above her, the trees grumbled and creaked powerful-looking branches. Anna looked up at the bare trees, a shiver running down her spine as she noticed the strange face-like patterns on the trunks. Was that whispering around her or just the wind?

 _Just the wind,_ she told herself, _it does that all the time._

Anna knew that she ought to have stayed right where she was, just as her mother taught her to do if she ever got lost. But what if Elsa was somewhere else completely? What if she were also lost in the forest? Elsa had also been taught by mother and father to stay where she was if she got lost. Elsa was the good girl who always obeyed their parents, while Anna was the opposite. Even if she knew Elsa could find her, Anna couldn’t hold still in one place for more than nine seconds.

Calling again for Elsa, in as loud a voice she could, Anna pushed through the thicket of tree trunks, a constant feeling like many eyes were watching her. The whisperings intensified, until they were like a hive of bees buzzing around her. Birds chirped and fluttered high in the canopies, and little rabbits and mice fled from the girl’s feet as she raced in the direction she imagined Elsa might be. She knew that she was almost certainly going in the wrong direction, but she just had to look for Elsa.

“Elsa! Where are you? Are you lost too? Elsa!” she called out again and again.

She didn’t notice the branches beginning to lower like arms, their twigs resembling long, bony fingers. Anna didn’t see a root that popped out of the soil out of nowhere, sending her flying.

“Ow!” she grunted as she sat there stunned for a second, before getting back up. “Gotta look where I’m going.”

Then something large and furry with antlers tore out of the shadows straight towards her. With a scream, Anna flung herself out of the animal’s way, heart pounding, her adrenaline racing through her veins. She pushed herself up against a tree trunk, watching with wide eyes and held breath as the animal came to a screeching halt, soil churned up by its hooves. Then, from right behind her, a grumpy male voice barked,

“Get off me! I’m not a couch!”

And two branches came around, twigs like claws, reaching for the little girl. She shrank back against the trunk, but then the claw-like twigs grabbed, lifted, and flung Anna as far from the offended tree as they could.

_Gosh, I’m going to have a lot of bruises after this!_

The antlered animal returned, snuffling and nudging at Anna with its nose. Anna mumbled into the earth, getting up yet again. She yelped and scurried away as she came face to face with what looked like a moose. She wondered for a moment if she ought to get up and _sprint_ for her life, but then the animal reached forward again and licked her face, an almost human-like concern in its dark eyes. Tentatively, Anna reached out and patted its nose, sure now that it wasn’t going to eat her for dinner.

“Good moose,” she told it, “I’m going to be fine.”

“It’s reindeer, not moose.”

Anna gasped, jerking her hand away from the moose—no, _reindeer’s_ —nose. It had actually talked! Its mouth barely moved, still snuffling at her. Its voice sounded a lot higher than Anna would have imagined a reindeer’s to be.

“You can talk?”

“And the name’s Sven, not Rudolf or Dasher or Prancer or whatever,” the creature continued, “and of course he can’t talk. Hop on, and let’s get out of here.”

Anna got up and finally, she saw what she hadn’t before: a blonde, grumpy-looking boy sat astride the reindeer’s back. Apparently _he_ had been the one talking all along. He told the reindeer to kneel down, and at once, Sven obeyed. The reindeer tilted its antlers toward Anna, then back at the grumpy-looking boy, who held out a hand to Anna.

“You’re going to help me find Elsa, right?” Anna called up.

“Who’s Elsa?”

“My sister,” Anna explained, “you haven’t seen her?”

The boy’s frown lessened a smidgeon. “What she look like?”

“She looks a lot like me—lots of people say we could be twins. But she has blonde—even lighter than yours—hair.”

“Can’t say I’ve seen a girl like that,” the boy said, lowering his hand to the animal’s side again. “Anyway, _you_ shouldn’t be here.”

Anna folded her arms. “Why shouldn’t I be? If I got blown here, then Elsa did too.”

“I heard you shouting for all Oz to hear—”

“I’m in Australia?” Anna interrupted, eyes wide. “My gosh, that wind blew me a long way!”

“Not Australia. _Oz._ The Land of Oz.”

“That’s what Australia is called too.”

“This is _not Australia_. You see any kangaroos? Come on, you can’t stay here. I’ll get you out of the Forest of Fighting Trees at least.”

Anna considered this. The boy was grumpy and bad-mannered, but it sounded like he knew the land a lot better than she did. Maybe he could help her. Hands on hips, she squinted up at him.

“You know this country, don’t you?”

“Well enough.”

“So you can help me find Elsa.”

“How do I do that?”

Anna chewed her bottom lip. “I…uh…”

“Because I’m not going to run around Oz yelling ‘Elsa’ with you all day.”

“Is there anyone who’d _know_ then? Or have an idea where she is? Are there any adults around?”

The boy folded his arms, sitting still in deep thought for a while.

“Glinda the Good.”

“Glinda the Good?”

“You never heard of her?”

“Never, why?”

“Oh, never mind,” the boy grumbled, “I’ll just take you to her palace, and then she can help you.”

“Then what?”

The boy shrugged. “Then you’re on your own.”

“So you’ll take me up to the palace,” Anna declared, “So I can meet Glinda the Good.”

The boy stayed silent for a few seconds before he mumbled a “Yeah, that’s right.”

“Just one more question.”

The trees grumbled, waving their powerful branches in an ominous fashion. The boy glanced up, wincing as he saw the twig fingers flexing and wiggling as though itching to throw them again.

“Be quick about it.”

“What’s your name?”

“Why do you want to know it?”

“So I can thank you properly when we arrive at Galinda’s—”

“ _Glinda_.”

“Sorry. _Glinda_. That’s right isn’t it? Well, I would like to know the name of the boy who helped me when we are at her palace. It’s only polite, isn’t it?”

“Alright, fine. Kristoff.”

“Unusual name.”

“Yeah? So what’s yours then?”

“Anna.” Anna pronounced it like Ah-nah.

Kristoff raised an eyebrow. “Anna…is that how you really say your name?”

“Yes. Why, what’s so wrong about it?”

“Most people pronounce it as _An_ na.”

“I know. We don’t. But now you know I’m Anna and I know you’re Kristoff. Let’s go!”

And Anna grabbed on to Kristoff’s hand with one hand and the reindeer’s harness with the other. In one motion, she managed to straddle the reindeer, sitting in front of the taller boy.

“Alright, hang on! We need to be _fast_!”

With one command from Kristoff, Sven galloped off again through the fighting trees, Anna’s arms wrapped tight around the reindeer’s neck, fingers clutching thick fur. Anna clenched her eyes shut to protect them from passing twigs reaching out to try and yank her off Sven, her fingers gripping on to the reindeer’s fur as tight as possible without hurting him. She could hear groans and thumps from trees as they shot past them. Leaves, dry and brown, got caught in Kristoff’s and Anna’s hair as well as Sven’s fur. Twigs snagged on clothes and hair alike, breaking off as their ride sprinted at full tilt for the edge of the forest. Already, Anna spotted the first signs of a landscape outside of the forest, including a huge rocky mountainous range and rolling countryside.

“Are we there yet?” Anna opened her eyes the tiniest fraction.

“Nearly! Just keep your head down and your eyes closed!”

Anna closed her eyes as tight as she could, her head flush against the reindeer’s fur. She could feel sweat beginning to form under the creature’s coat, its breathing fast as he strained to pass the border of the forest. The trees were howling even louder, as though someone had caused them mortal offence. Twigs snapped and branches whipped past as Sven barrelled through, his antlers keeping most of the swings at bay. Not even the trees dared to risk their branches or twigs being ripped off in the huge antlers of the reindeer barraging through at top speed. Anna’s body slipped around with the movement of the reindeer, and she prayed that she would not fall off and be trampled underfoot.

And finally, they were over the border, leaving the Forest of Fighting trees behind them. Bright, warm sunlight lightened the backs of Anna’s eyelids, and she opened them to see that they had made it through. She sat up now, back aching from the uncomfortable position she had been in. Kristoff sat right behind her, shifting somewhat uncomfortably as she leaned back slightly, sighing in relief. She let herself take in the glorious view of nothing but nature anywhere she looked. No cars coughed and sped on grey gravel roads, no telephone poles stood side-by-side with cables interrupting the flow of the sky. In fact, there was no sign of advanced civilisation anywhere she looked. Anna closed her eyes and breathed deeply, appreciating the fresh aroma of grass after a morning dew and the smell of a dozen different flowers wafting on the breeze. Fluffy, marshmallow clouds were like brush-strokes of soft white on a vivid turquoise sky.

“Phew! That was close!” she remarked. “Thanks, Kristoff, thanks, Sven.”

Sven grunted appreciatively at the little girl’s affectionate pat on his head, scratching a little at the fur.

“So what now?” Anna asked. “Where’s Glinda’s palace?”

“See that?” Kristoff pointed to a glittering red building in the distance.

Anna squinted with a hand over her eyes to see the glimmering dot on the horizon.

“That’s her palace?”

“First, we get something to eat,” Kristoff said, “I’m hungry and so’s Sven.”

Anna’s stomach growled at the mention of food. “Well, I’m hungry too.”

“If you’re expecting roast pork and vegetables, you’re out of luck. Got just carrots, that’s all.”

“Oh, I’ll eat anything,” Anna assured, “carrots are healthy anyway.”

Kristoff rummaged around for his sack attached to Sven’s harness. He tugged out a bunch of bright orange, plump carrots. He grabbed a couple and handed one over to Anna, who took it with a polite “thank you”. Kristoff passed his carrot to Sven, who bit off half. Then, much to Anna’s disturbance, the boy chomped down on his half of the carrot, reindeer slobber and all.

“Ew…” Anna wrinkled her nose, almost gagging.

“What?” Kristoff asked in a confused tone.

“You eat carrots that your reindeer has just chomped down on.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t make a difference to me.”

“Still gross.”

“Your thoughts, not mine.”

Anna huffed, slouching back a little, crunching down on another bite of her carrot. Some silence passed, interrupted only by their eating, until Anna spoke up again.

“Why were you in the forest anyway?”

“Huh? Oh, well, Sven must have sensed someone was in trouble—”

“I was _fine._ ”

“—and I suppose he could hear you shouting for your—sister, was it—and we both knew that the forest is dangerous, so…guess we had to check it out. And there you were.”

 _Crunch._ Kristoff sounded like he’d taken a particularly big bite out of his vegetable. Anna surveyed the horizon again, the glittering ruby red palace catching and holding her attention just as it had the first time.

“So,” Anna said a little louder than she ought, “are we going to the palace now?”

Kristoff mumbled something incoherent through his mouthful of carrot.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that.”

A delay passed as Kristoff swallowed his bite.

“We might as well,” Kristoff agreed, “since you’re so desperate to find your sister.”

“Well, excuse me,” Anna huffed, “she _is_ my sister. She has ice powers you know.”

“What! like the Snow Queen in the Winkies’ country?”

Anna froze. Shifting around, she turned as much as she could to face Kristoff without falling off Sven. Her mouth hung open in utter astonishment.

“Are you telling me there’s someone _else_ with her powers here?”

“Yeah, I told you that. They call her the Snow Queen,” Kristoff explained, “it is said that the Winkies’ country has been iced over ever since the sorceress took over the Wicked Witch’s castle.”

“Winkies?”

“Tinsmiths,” Kristoff clarified as he wiped his hands on his trousers before taking up Sven’s reins, easing him into a brisk walk. “They are the best tinsmiths in all of Oz.”

“Does Glinda the Good know about this Snow Queen?” Anna gasped as a thought came to her. “Oh—maybe she’ll know about Elsa!”

Kristoff shrugged as Anna turned to face the front again. “Well, I wouldn’t be surprised if she knew. She knows all that happens in Oz.”

“You’re not making this up?”

“Why would I?”

“Just making sure.”

“Well, I’m not making it up,” Kristoff said, sounding a little offended, “Glinda the Good will help you.”

Anna rubbed her hands together, before leaning forward, clutching on to Sven’s neck once again.

“So let’s go! How far is it?”

“It’s quite far, and we like to go fast—“

“I like fast!” Anna blurted, excitement in every word. “As fast as we can to the palace!”

“You sure?”

“One hundred percent sure!”

“Alright then,” Kristoff’s voice sounded a lot lighter, “hold on, Anna! We’re going to see Glinda the Good. Fast as you can, Sven!”

Anna wrapped her arms around Sven’s neck just in time, shutting her eyes tight so she could just lose herself in the exhilaration of the race to Glinda the Good’s palace. Sven’s hooves pounded hard and fast on the green grass, easing into a rhythmic, energetic tempo. Anna felt the muscles working in his neck and body as he sped at full tilt for the good witch’s home. She could hear his puffs of breath as he panted with the effort of racing across the landscape, Kristoff encouraging him to keep up the thrilling pace.

 _One day,_ Anna promised herself, _I’m going to race horses, if I can’t race reindeer!_

She could imagine herself now as an equestrian, urging her horse forward to the finish line to the cheers of a giant crowd of spectators.

_I’m going to be a horse racer when I grow up._

“You still okay?” Kristoff queried. “Want me to go a bit slower?”

“Are you kidding?” Anna shouted, giddy with exhilaration, “This is _fun!_ ”

“Alright, glad you’re good,” Kristoff said, sounding—to Anna’s surprise—genuine, “to the palace we go! We might need to stop overnight though—sun’s going down soon. You mind?”

“No!” Anna shouted back, “I don’t mind! As long as we look for Elsa!”

 _You’ll be okay, Elsa,_ Anna thought, hoping she was right, _We’re going to find each other again. And then we can go home again._

In the distance, Glinda the Good’s shining palace patiently awaited the arrival of a little girl, a little boy, and their reindeer friend, Sven. Anna could only hope that Glinda the Good knew where Elsa was and, more importantly, that she knew how they could get home once again.

For now, Anna allowed herself to close her eyes and lose herself in the exhilaration of racing a real life reindeer, the sun playing over fine strands of red hair as it sunk low on the horizon.


	5. Chapter 5

It was a good long ride across Quadling Country to get to Glinda’s palace. Anna could feel the day beginning to cool in the approach of night-time. Kristoff ordered Sven to slow down to a walk as the watery sun began to be engulfed by the horizon. Anna sat up straight, looking around at lengthening shadows fanning over hills and dipping into valleys. The shadows of Anna, Kristoff, and Sven stretched until they looked like matchstick figures gliding over the pleasant earth.

“I think we might need to sleep somewhere overnight,” Kristoff guessed, “We’ll have to find a place to rest.”

Anna surveyed the landscape, not seeing any nearby inns or hotels.

“Where’s the closest place for us to sleep?”

“There are no inns or hotels—we just have to find a tree. But I’m used to being outside. What about you?”

Anna shrugged. “I’m used to sleeping inside, but I can sleep outside if I need to.”

“It’s not comfortable,” Kristoff warned, “and I’ve got no pillows and mattresses.”

“I won’t complain,” Anna promised, before asking, “how cold does it get at night?”

“Not unpleasant,” Kristoff said as he steered Sven toward a cluster of trees with overhanging branches, “Warm.”

Eventually, the pair found a sheltered spot under the trees that would keep dry should it begin to rain during the night. Anna swung one leg down by her other one, sliding off Sven to land on the ground on both feet. Kristoff jumped right off after her, leading his reindeer a few metres away. Anna flopped down on the ground near a thick tree root jutting out of the earth, one hand resting on her forehead. She watched as leaves danced over and under each other, fluttering in the light wind.

“Are you sure we’re safe under these trees?” Anna queried, wanting to make sure there wouldn’t be any bears or lions prowling around.

“The only beasts prowling around here are Sven and you.”

Anna glared up at him, “Very funny, Kristoff.”

Kristoff’s mouth twitched, as if trying to hold back his amusement. He flopped down on his back a couple metres away from Anna.

“Just don’t devour me tonight, will you?”

Anna ran her fingers through her hair, “I _might_ if you keep saying things like that.”

Kristoff grinned as he placed his hands under his head, closing his eyes. “I’m terrified.”

“You should be.”

Kristoff popped open an eyelid. “You’re impossible.”

“So are you,” Anna retorted, but she couldn’t help a smile back—Kristoff’s was so infectious.

 

Finally, the cloudless night fell. Sven settled down to rest, still alert and keeping watch. Anna heard crickets singing all around her and if she listened very hard, she heard the distant cry of an owl. No moon shone down, but the night sky was a dazzling concave bowl of stars. Anna got up and ambled out from under the trees to lie back down on the soft grass, gazing up in awe at the glittering stars. She tried to find constellations, but the stars were not arranged in the way she had always known them to be. She wanted to ask Kristoff what constellations were there, but she could tell from his loud snoring that he was already fast asleep.

_I don’t mind looking at the stars alone anyway._

Anna continued to stare up at the stars arrayed in unfamiliar constellations, thinking back to how she and Elsa would often go outside and just look up at the stars. They made lots of wishes on shooting stars. The first time Anna had ever wished upon a shooting star, she had been about to tell Elsa, who stopped her.

“Telling someone your falling star wish is bad luck,” Elsa had warned, “you need to keep it hush-hush.”

Anna had solemnly remembered that warning every night thereafter. The hushed secrets to every falling star since then had seen her dream come true every time: that she would always have Elsa by her side.

Now, Anna wished Elsa was there to watch for shooting stars with her.

_Maybe she’s watching out for shooting stars right now too,_ she consoled herself, _maybe she’s wishing to see me again. Wishing upon a falling star brings good luck._

Anna wondered idly if Kristoff had ever wished upon a star—or if he believed in wishing on falling stars. He didn’t seem the type to believe in such things, but she didn’t know. For all she knew, perhaps he _did_ believe in wishing on stars.

Then—she spotted it—a flash of light arcing across the sky, curving down to the horizon. It was a falling star. At once, Anna trained her eyes on it, her wish imprinted on her heart, sealed behind her lips. She waited as the star arced down, down, down to the horizon, disappearing behind the shadowed land miles away. Only when the star disappeared, did Anna then close her eyes, preparing for slumber.

_Goodnight, Elsa, wherever you are._

 

“Wake up! Wake up, Anna!”

Anna mumbled in her sleep, hands grabbing for blankets to pull over her head as a hand shook her shoulder. Instead of grabbing blankets however, she grabbed someone’s arm.

“It’s time to go to the castle.”

_Why does my bed feel all lumpy?_

Blearily, Anna opened her eyes, rubbing them, wondering why her father looked so much younger and had blonde hair.

“Yeah?”

“Glinda’s palace! Now come on, it’s already mid-morning.”

“Glinda’s palette…” Anna mumbled, now sitting up with a yawn and stretch before opening her eyes to look at Kristoff. Now she remembered with a jolt. “Glinda’s palace!”

“You want breakfast?”

Without waiting for an answer, Kristoff stood up from his crouch, rummaging around in the pouch attached to Sven’s harness. He pulled out a new bunch of carrots, tossing one to Anna, while he kept a second for himself. Anna’s hopes that he wouldn’t share his carrot with Sven were dashed when he offered first bit to his reindeer. She looked away, grossed out, when he immediately chomped off a bite, slobber and all.

“You’ve never shared food with your pets?” Kristoff asked her, sounding like he’d never heard of a thing before.

“Ew, no,” Anna wrinkled her nose, “like I told you, that’s _gross_.”

“So you’ve never fed your pets scraps from the table?”

“I have,” Anna admitted, “but that’s different.”

“You’re still sharing your spit with your pet.”

Anna puffed her chest out, eyes narrowed. “I eat my food first, then give it to my cat. Haven’t you ever gotten sick from sharing your food with Sven like you do?”

“ _Nope,_ ” Kristoff said with pride, “never ever.”

_I bet he has._

Finishing the last of her carrot, Anna stood up, brushing herself off. She took out her plaits, combing fingers through her uniformly red hair. As Kristoff checked that Sven was ready to go on ahead with the rest of the journey, Anna plaited her hair over her shoulders, tossing them back with a flourish when she finished with each one.

“Alright,” she declared in her most business-like voice, “Let’s go to Glinda’s palace.”

 

And so once again the little party struck out for Glinda’s ruby red palace with its nearby magical silvery waterfall. Anna watched, entranced, as the waterfall splashed onto damp rocks hiding the small lake at its foot. Hidden from everyone, the waterfall continued as an underground river until it ended up in another part of Oz.

“Here we are,” Kristoff declared as he drew Sven up to the gates where a couple female guards stood sentry.

“ _Whoa…_ ” Anna breathed, eyes bugging as she stared at the palace.

From a distance, the glistening, ruby-encrusted palace was breath-taking, but seeing it close-up would take anyone’s breath away. Sitting atop a hill nestled in a valley of hills, the palace and its grounds sprawled as big as a large suburb. Domed and coned roofs spoke of majesty and great wealth. Skinny towers stretched into the sky, as if reaching for the clouds themselves. Even from a distance, the walls shone white, with nothing to suggest anything less than architectural perfection. The roofs were deep red, shining in the sun, the faces of jewels catching fractals of light.

The windy road up to Glinda’s castle led them to a pair of tall gates with silver bars. Two female guards flanked either side of the gates, staring at the travellers as they came to a stop.

“What is your need here?” one guard questioned.

“I am here to speak to Glinda the Good,” Anna declared, “I want her to help me find my sister, Elsa.”

The two female guards appraised Anna for a few moments, like they were checking she told the truth. To the travellers’ great relief, the two women pulled the gates open with twin welcoming smiles.

“You are welcome in the palace of Glinda the Good,” the second guard told them with a gracious little nod, before stopping them with a hand, “ _but_ the reindeer must stay outside.”

“He won’t hurt anyone,” Kristoff protested.

The second guard shook her head, black locks falling over her shoulders. “I am sorry, your reindeer will wait outside the gates until you leave again.”

Sven gave a low, disappointed grunt when his two passengers jumped off his back and made for the gates. Kristoff gave him a little pat on his snout.

“Sorry buddy,” he apologised, “but we’ll be right back. You just stay right here.”

Anna gave Sven a quick pet too as she passed through the gates, following Kristoff. She heard the gates clang shut without a squeak as she fell in step beside the older boy. Seeing they still had a ways to go to the castle, Anna decided this was a good time as any to get to know more about Kristoff.

“So Kristoff, have you always lived in Oz?”

“What?” Kristoff blinked down at her, “No, no, I haven’t.”

“So are you from my world too?”

“Yeah.”

“How’d you come here?” Anna asked, “was it by storm as well?”

“Actually, no,” Kristoff said, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he shuffled along beside Anna, “I was on my farm—I live on a farm—and saw this strange object fall out of the sky and to the ground not far ahead of me.”

“So you went to have a look at it?” Anna guessed.

“Yeah,” Kristoff confirmed, digging his hands deeper into his pockets, shoulders hunched, “I looked closer to see it was a broken piece of tin. I shouldn’t have touched it.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Kristoff sighed, extracting a large hand from a pocket to run his fingers through blonde hair. “Because then I’ll be still with my mother and father.”

Anna gasped—she hadn’t thought of how frantic her parents must be getting now both her and Elsa were gone. Both of them had been gone a day and night now, and Anna tried not to imagine her mother’s crying or her father’s frantic calls to the police. She tried not to think of how they would rope the neighbours into suburb-wide search parties looking for two missing daughters.

Anna chewed her lip to stop herself from crying.

_We’ll come back, I promise!_

“Can I ask how long you’ve been here?” Anna asked.

Kristoff grunted, “Dunno. A long time.”

“Do you want to go back home?”

Another mumble, then, “Of course I do.”

“Then cheer up,” Anna encouraged, “We’re at the palace!”

Kristoff stared at her, a blonde eyebrow disappearing into his long fringe.

“What?” Anna asked, a goofy smile still stretching her lips.

The older boy shook his head ruefully, the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.

“Are you always this optimistic?”

“Always!” Anna chirped, before coming to a halt, staring up at the doors to the palace. The crimson doors were flanked by two more female guards. “Hello there!”

The guard turned her head to look at Anna, big green eyes curving with her gentle smile.

“Good morning,” she greeted, “what brings you to the palace of Glinda the Good, dearest travellers?”

Anna explained just as she had to the guards at the gate what she was here for. Both women nodded, one extending a willowy arm in the direction of the doors.

“You may go inside. Glinda’s throne room resides at the end of the hallway beyond the curtains.”

One of the guards pulled at one of the doors, opening the heavy wood slowly until the entranceway lay wide open. Kristoff and Anna walked inside, staring in awe at lofty ceilings and wide windows letting in vast amounts of glorious, warm, yellow sunshine.

“Welcome to Glinda the Good’s palace,” the two guardswomen chorused behind them before the doors shut with a soft click.

Anna’s heart hammered with apprehension—would this be where she would find out where Elsa was? Would they find out how to get home again?

_I hope she has some answers for me…and for Kristoff too._

Anna’s toes curled in her shoes as she glided over plush mauve carpeting that warmed her feet right through her soles. The walls were painted a deep rose with patterns of flowers twining and curling like vines over a tall fence. Anna’s heart ached and her eyes stung as she inhaled the flowery scent reminding her of her mother’s garden back home.

_I hope I can go home soon,_ she prayed, _but I’m not going home without Elsa._

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Anna whispered, wide eyes travelling up, up to the high ceilings with their ruby-encrusted chandeliers holding candles that burned bright as stars.

“It’s very…red,” Kristoff evaluated.

Anna tilted her head, looking sideways up at Kristoff. “It’s very red?”

“Just look at it!” Kristoff waved an arm around the hall.

“Yeah, but do you _like_ it?”

“I…I don’t dislike it…but it’s a lot of red.”

Harp music floated into their ears, lulling both children into a sense of safety, as though they were at home again. The lilting notes of a pitch-perfect soprano brought tears of happiness to Anna’s eyes, the music affecting her in ways she could never fully explain or understand.

“Whoever’s singing has a gorgeous voice,” Anna noted.

Kristoff coughed a little too loud to be natural. “Yeah. Yeah, she does. I think I might cry.”

Anna smiled up at him, seeing that indeed his eyes were mistier than usual.

“Go ahead,” she assured him, “I won’t judge.”

Not too many steps later, the two children stopped before a curtained archway. They could hear the music coming from the other side of the curtain, joined by rhythmic claps and more voices accompanying the soprano in song.

“This must be it,” Kristoff assumed, “You want to open that curtain?”

Anna stuck out her hands and pulled the curtains apart enough for her to peek through. She gasped, turning awed eyes on Kristoff.

“She’s so beautiful,” she breathed, “she _has_ to be Glinda the Good, hasn’t she?”

“I can’t see.”

“Oh, right.”

Anna pulled a curtain over a bit more so the boy could see. He, like Anna, stared for a few seconds before nodding in agreement.

“Yeah, must be her. Let’s go in then.”

Side by side, the two children made their way through the curtains into the expansive room with its many servants, entertainers, and musicians. Two harpists stood, eyes closed, on either side of the ruby-encrusted throne. The soprano soloist stood by one harpist, her hands clutched loosely over her chest, eyes bright and mouth wide open so the most dulcet of birdsong could fly from her lips. A few flutists swayed in time, their fingers darting up and down over their instruments, creating a bouncy, cheerful tune.

But for all the beauty the music held, no-one seemed to be more beautiful than the woman who relaxed on her throne of rubies. Her auburn, curly hair cascaded over bare shoulders, accentuating her heart-shaped face and deep pink lips. Her wide, deep blue eyes reminded Anna so much of Elsa’s own she could hardly bear to look without her heart aching. The woman wore an elegant white dress, the hem of which floated around her ankles like the finest of ball-gowns any young lady would be fortunate to wear. Her tiny feet, covered with exquisite ruby shoes, rested on a footstool decorated with more rubies, like the throne. Finally, on her head perched a pure gold crown with little ruby jewels dangling over the sides and back of her head.

Kristoff and Anna stopped just before the throne, both of them bowing on one knee before the tall woman. Whispers of curiosity floated from several lips, servants and musicians alike wondering what a red-headed girl and a blonde-haired boy wanted from their beloved sorceress. The harpists kept playing, soft, soothing little notes that gave Anna a sense that everything would turn out fine. She—and Kristoff—would be safe, they would return home soon.

Now the woman sat up straighter, removing her feet from the footstool, leaning to address the two children.

“Good day,” she greeted, eyes warming with her smile, “I see you have come to seek my assistance. I am Glinda the Good, who knows all that is happening in Oz, and have never been known to fail anyone who is in need of my help. Is a desire for help why you came here?”

“We have,” Anna confirmed, “And Kristoff too, who is also from my world.”

“I also brought Sven along,” Kristoff added, “but the guards had me leave him outside.”

“Who is Sven?” Glinda enquired.

“He’s a reindeer I befriended here,” Kristoff explained.

Glinda the Good now smiled with deep benevolence at Anna. “Do tell me everything, please.”

“Everything?”

“I am curious as to how you came here—I recall one other young girl, her name was Dorothy, who ended up here with her dog once long ago. I was able to show her how to get back to Kansas—her home—and I know I can do the same for you, for my magic is very powerful.”

Anna at once told Glinda everything—Elsa and her magic, the blizzard that had blown them here, Anna eventually finding Kristoff, and their journey to Glinda’s castle. As Anna talked, Glinda leaned her chin on one long, elegant finger, deep in thought as she listened to the little girl. Anna was near breathless when she finally explained all, and had to catch her breath again.

“So, you’ll help us then?” Anna asked with unfettered hope in every word.

Glinda’s face was a picture of solemnness. “I will help you, but first I must tell you what I know.”

Anna’s smile faded as she looked into Glinda’s suddenly sadder eyes.

_Oh no, has something happened to Elsa?_

“My dears,” Glinda began, “I know that there lives in the Winkies’ country a Snow Queen who has been searching for a child with snow magic for a long time, and it appears she has finally found one.”

“Elsa…” Anna breathed, voice catching.

_I hope she won’t do anything bad to Elsa._

“Yes, Anna dearest, I’m afraid so. The Snow Queen who resides in the old Wicked Witch of the West’s castle—”

“The Wicked Witch of the West?” Anna interrupted.

“She used to rule over Winkie Country until Dorothy—the child I mentioned to you earlier—managed to defeat her by melting her with water.”

“Water.” Kristoff repeated, dead-pan.

“The Wicked Witch of the West was horribly allergic to water,” Glinda explained, “And so she died, leaving an empty castle—until now.”

Anna folded her arms, her face nearly just as serious as Glinda’s. “So this Snow Queen now lives in the old witch’s castle and has my sister.”

“Indeed,” Glinda confirmed, “I am not completely certain—while I know a lot of things about the Land of Oz and the world beyond, I do not claim to know all. But I am certain enough of your sister’s whereabouts that I cannot find any reason to doubt that the Snow Queen has summoned her.”

“So what do we do now?”

Glinda rolled her shoulders, turning her elegant neck to eye one of her servants. She crooked a finger at one of her servants, who came forth with a ready curtsey.

“My dear, would you please gather packages of food for these travellers on their way to the Winkies’ country?”

“Yes, my lady.”

With another curtsey, the young servant sailed away out of sight. Satisfied her request was being attended to, Glinda turned back to face her two guests.

“You must journey to the Winkies’ country and rescue your sister,” Glinda informed Anna, “before her heart turns into ice.”

Anna gasped, both hands over her mouth, eyes wide with worry.

“Oh no…”

“Never fear,” Glinda soothed, “if the worst has happened, the warmth of your love for her will thaw her frozen heart.”

“It will?”

“Yes, my dear. I sense you love your sister very much, and would do anything for her, am I right?”

Anna nodded as solemnly as she could.

“I can sense that your love will be enough to thaw the country from the moment you set foot inside its borders. But, I ask you, do be careful. The Snow Queen has turned the weather of the Winkies’ country into a frigid land of ice and freezing temperatures.”

“We just wear warmer things, right?” Anna asked.

Glinda shook her head, bringing her wand forward to cast a little spell over the two.

“Do not fear, as I have cast a spell to protect you from the cold,” she informed them, “but I would still advise not to stay long.”

“It’ll be well and good when Anna saves her sister,” Kristoff spoke up, “but how do we all get home again?”

With a wave of her wand, Glinda conjured up three pairs of pure white ice-skates perched right in front of the two children’s feet. Both Kristoff and Anna looked down at the same time to gaze upon these perfect skates with gleaming silver blades.

“When you find Elsa, you must all put these ice-skates on your feet,” Glinda explained, “and link your arms together, spinning three times. You must _all_ think in your heads, ‘there is no place like home’, as I also explained to Dorothy. Do you have any more questions?”

“Yes,” Kristoff said at once, “How do we defeat this Snow Queen?”

“It is difficult,” Glinda admitted, “but I have heard—and know it to be true—that the Snow Queen offers an impossible task for her…companions to do before she lets them go.”

“Task?” Anna echoed.

“It is something that will require much of your wits about you, and I am certain you have more wits between yourselves than you can imagine. There is a secret to freeing her of this task.”

Anna was about to ask what the secret was, when one of the servants returned with three sacks full of food for the travellers’ journey to Winkie Country. Laying them before the throne, the servant curtsied a third time and walked off to leave them alone. Glinda gestured to the packages.

“Take those. They will keep you well-fed on your travels.”

“What’s the fastest way to get to the castle?” Anna asked the sorceress.

“You must go over the mountains to cross into the border. There, you will find many willing to direct you to the Snow Queen’s castle.” Here, Glinda looked at Kristoff. “You do have your reindeer, I believe?”

Kristoff nodded. “What about him?”

“I trust that he is swift on foot?”

“He is.”

“Excellent. At speed, you shall get to the border of Winkie Country in a couple days at most, if not a full day. Once you are in Winkie Country, look for the mansion shaped like a corn cob. Then walk straight north from the mansion, and you shall find the Snow Queen’s castle. But if you do lose your way, the Winkies are very friendly and will help you, this I promise.”

Glinda paused, eyes turning back to look at Kristoff.

“My dear Kristoff, when you do succeed in rescuing Elsa and getting back to your world, I must warn you that Sven, having been born in Oz, must stay here.”

Kristoff twitched, looking stricken. “W-what?”

“I know you are very close to Sven, but sometimes we must leave behind those we love most.”

“But…”

“I feel that your mother and father will not be so happy if you kept a reindeer as a pet.”

“We live on a farm—”

Glinda shook her head. “I am afraid Sven will stay in his homeland. But take heart, I will find a way for him to come back to you if not in reindeer form.”

“How?”

“That is for me to know, and for you to wonder about. You _will know_ , I promise. Now, anything else you wish to ask?”

“Glinda, you told us before about a secret to help rescue Elsa,” Anna recalled, “what was that secret?”

“Eternity,” Glinda revealed, “remember this word, and all will be well.”

“Eternity,” Anna echoed, hoping she could remember it should the time come to do so. “Eternity will save Elsa.”

Glinda nodded again. “Eternity—remember this word as much as you can, Anna, Kristoff. When you do reveal this word, you will be able to return home again.”

“Thank you. I will find my sister and save her.”

“I know you will, dear,” Glinda said with great gentleness, “now be on your way, for time is running out as we speak. I wish you well.”

“Thank you,” Anna said, curtseying as low as she dared—which was just a slight bend of her knees.

Collecting the ice skates and bags of food, Kristoff and Anna made their way out into the hall, hearing the harps, flutes, and singers burst into music once again. It faded away behind them as they approached the doors where the guardswomen still stood sentry. Both turned to look at the travellers as they exited the palace of Glinda the Good.

“Have you found what you were seeking?” one guardswoman queried.

“Yes, thank you,” Anna said, “thank you for allowing us inside.”

“You are very welcome,” said the second guardswoman, “we wish you all the best.”

And with those words of good luck, the two travellers walked together back to Sven, one word always hovering at the back of their thoughts.

_Eternity,_ Anna reminded herself with each step, _eternity, eternity, eternity…_

 


	6. Chapter 6

Elsa’s slumber passed by her in a series of pleasant dreams uninterrupted by nightmares. She began to awake in the middle of a beautiful dream about a giant ice palace tucked in the side of a mountain covered in snow. Elsa had watched a majestic ice palace grow from the mountain’s very earth. Ice pillars rose to greet the sky, and a giant chandelier of pure ice had hung from the ceiling. When she awoke, she had been striding out onto the icy balcony with a fierce song in her heart, singing to a pink sunrise. Elsa was sorry she had to wake up in the middle of this wonderful dream. Elsa wanted to explore the rest of that breath-taking ice palace, but her eyelids fluttered, glimpses of the waking world dashing away the ice palace in a heartbeat. She shut her eyes tight again, wanting to stay in that wonderful dream, but it was already too late, the palace dissolving to nothing like a snowman in the heat of summer.

_Aww,_ she lamented, _I wanted to explore that palace._

With a yawn, Elsa opened her eyes, stretching her arms over her head. For a confused moment, she didn’t know why she was in her bed, until she saw that ice-crafted throne before her.

_Oh right. I’m in the Snow Queen’s palace, in the place called Oz._

Her new home.

“Good morning, my little friend,” crooned the Snow Queen’s soft voice from the throne, “Have you slept well?”

Elsa was about to say she was fine, but something had her hesitate.

“Wait, I slept since yesterday afternoon?”

“You _must_ have been very sleepy,” the Snow Queen said, “Never mind, I am sure you are well-rested from your slumber.”

Elsa didn’t feel well-rested—her limbs felt heavier and her thoughts were much more sluggish than usual. Nevertheless, she wished only to put the Snow Queen’s mind at ease.

“I am very well rested, thank you,” Elsa assured, sitting up properly so she could look again on the Snow Queen’s enchanting face.

“I am very glad to hear of it. Do you wish for breakfast?”

Elsa’s stomach answered for her with a loud growl. Gasping, Elsa clutched her stomach, as though holding it would make it keep quiet. She waited for the Snow Queen to show disapproval, but instead she smiled indulgently, blue eyes still icy as ever.

“I see,” was all she said, “You are in luck, for I have the juiciest grapes right here. I do hope you like plump oranges as well.”

Elsa thought oranges and grapes an unusual combination for breakfast, but she nodded eagerly. She’d eat anything right now.

“I like that you have plenty of food,” Elsa complimented, “back home, we have hardly anything, because of so little money.”

The Snow Queen brought a hand to her lips, pity in every feature.

“Oh my poor child, you have little in the way to eat at your old home?”

“Yes, I could say that,” Elsa sighed, “so I’m glad I can eat more now.”

The Snow Queen reached her arm over to the table next to her throne and brandished a plate of pure ice, on which sat plump grapes and orange quarters. With a benevolent smile, she presented this little breakfast treat to Elsa, who took it from her with eager gratitude.

“Thank you, Snow Queen,” Elsa said politely.

“You are very welcome. I have saved only the best for your culinary delights.”

Elsa closed her eyes as she popped a grape in her mouth, indulging herself in its tastiness. As she slowly chewed the grape, so as to savour its deliciousness, a thought occurred to her: she did not know the Snow Queen’s real name, if she had one. Opening her eyes, she tilted her head in question at the lady on the throne.

“Do you have a real name?” she asked, “or are you simply known as the Snow Queen?”

“I have no real name, my dear,” the Snow Queen answered, shifting her feet to rest on the footstool before her, “I am just the Snow Queen, and have always been so.”

“Have you always lived here?”

“In Oz? For a very long time, yes, but I have also lived…elsewhere.”

“Where?”

“High up on mountain peaks, where even the frigidity of the temperature does not kill me, even though it would be fatal to an ordinary human.”

They chatted idly like this as Elsa finished the rest of her breakfast, her stomach now nice and full again after a night of sleep. When Elsa was finished, she stood up and offered the empty plate back to the Snow Queen, who took it and replaced it on the small table next to her throne.

“Now, dear child,” the Snow Queen cooed, looking back at Elsa, who now stood on the steps before her throne, “I wish to ask you to do something for me.”

“What is it you want me to do?”

“Do you like puzzles at all?”

“It depends,” Elsa said, “I prefer puzzles to do with maths or words.”

“Oh, very much fortunate!” the Snow Queen cried, clapping her hands once, “for I have a word puzzle for you to play with!”

“Where?”

Now the Snow Queen’s face fell from its happy expression, melting back into a cool blankness.

“If you solve this puzzle,” she said in a flat tone, “you will be able to leave the castle if you so desired without repercussion. If you succeed, I will gift you also a pair of ice skates.”

“But I don’t wish to leave.”

“I know. This is why my gift is especially for you and your willingness to stay as my companion. Come with me.”

Standing up, the Snow Queen offered a hand to Elsa, the latter taking it without hesitation. The Snow Queen’s hand was also colder than ice, but Elsa did not feel this, for she was numb and immune to all cold.

Elsa and the Snow Queen stood now before the frozen Lake of Reason, upon which the throne itself resided. There were fine little cracks in the ice, and tiny ice floes bobbing in the clear, still water. If Elsa had not been immunised to the freezing temperatures by the Snow Queen’s kiss and her freezing heart, she would have shivered violently before the river.

“See over there?”

The Snow Queen pointed at a pyramid of ice blocks before them. They were neatly arranged into the pyramidal shape, sitting strong atop a thick layer of ice. There were no cracks or groans from the ice to suggest that the pyramid of ice blocks were in any danger of falling into the still river.

“I would like you to help me arrange them into a word—and not just any word,” the Snow Queen instructed, letting go of Elsa’s hand, “When you do give the word, I will free you.”

Elsa stared sideways at her companion. “There are lots of words to choose in English, but how am I to know it isn’t in any other language? There are millions.”

“Do not fear, for the word is of the English tongue.”

Elsa stared at the ice blocks, thinking about how many words were in English—how could she ever solve this riddle?

“Can you give me another hint as to what the word might be?”

The older woman smiled her indulgent, never-reaching-the-eyes smile.

“My dear child, all you must do is think of the common quality of rays and lines. I shall leave you alone to have fun with the ice blocks, shall I?”

Elsa nodded, assured the Snow Queen would only be a short distance away on her beautiful throne. She’d be safe and secure here in her new home. As Elsa gingerly stepped out onto the ice, she could hear the Snow Queen’s robes moving and swishing as she returned to sit back on her little throne. The temperature again dropped dramatically in the middle of the frozen lake, but Elsa still did not notice. Neither did Elsa see that she was slowly turning into ice, like the few statues in the Snow Queen’s throne room.

Standing inches away from the base of the ice block pyramid, Elsa tilted her head this way and that to try and figure how the Snow Queen’s cryptic riddle. What _had_ she meant by the common quality of rays and lines?

_Did she mean words with ray or line? Or words related to lines and rays?_

Her brain was slow, so slow, as she tried to figure out what words she knew had either “line” or “ray” in them. All she could think of was sunray and lineage, and not much else.

_Why am I still so tired?_

Deciding upon a word, Elsa now took apart the pyramid of ice blocks, pulling them out one by one with her bare hands. Placing them very gently on the ground, she tried to form the word “sunray”, but to no avail. Not giving up yet, she tried “lineage” and “coastline” and “clothesline”, yet none of them fitted either. With every word she got wrong, the more worried she became—what if she never solved it? What if she stayed here for good?

_What_ is _the word? What does it have to do with geometry? Why isn’t that word working? Why didn’t that_ other _word work either?_

Elsa didn’t notice that her powers had gone out of control, fresh frost jutting out from under her feet and snowflakes began to dance around her as she worked in the middle of the Lake of Reason.

_What is the word?_

This little phrase ran around and around in her head as she desperately tried to figure out the puzzle until she ran out of words containing “ray” and “line” that she knew and tried to no avail.

And all the time, she never noticed her feet, legs, arms, hands, and her whole body turning into ice. Her brain grew even more sluggish with the cold, energy sapped by the freezing atmosphere as dizziness took a hold of her.

_Keep figuring it out…_ she persuaded herself, _you’ll figure…you’ll figure it out…_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be going away on holiday to Australia for the next ten-ish days, so there will be at least a week without new chapters being posted. Just a heads-up! :)


	7. Chapter 7

Sven raced for hours over the mountains with his two passengers. Kristoff kept urging him forward, encouraging him to keep up his gait. Anna let her braids fly in the breeze, a wild grin betraying her utter exhilaration.

“We need to avoid the Hammerheads!” Kristoff shouted as he steered the reindeer as far from one specific hill as he could. “They’re nasty little people!”

“Why? And who _are_ the Hammerheads?”

“They live on that hill—have no arms, but will hit you with their head if you set a foot on their territory.”

“Wait, what? They hit with their heads? Isn’t that painful for them?”

“Doesn’t seem to be—I should know.”

“You’ve met them?”

“Once was one too many times.”

Anna looked back at Kristoff over her shoulder, now very curious.

“What happened?”

Kristoff tugged on Sven’s reins, slowing the animal to a leisurely pace. He cleared his throat, mumbling an answer to Anna’s question.

“Didn’t catch any of that.”

“Well, uh…” Kristoff winced, rubbing his neck, “We—Sven and me—we found out the hard way the first time we went over that hill. They swarmed us—Sven, really, as I was riding—swarmed him. They didn’t just butt heads—they _rammed_ into him. The Hammerheads wanted us gone—and that’s what we did.” Kristoff spread his hands, “we left.”

Anna pouted, eyes narrowing. “Did you tell them how rude they were?”

Kristoff snorted, rolling his eyes. “Not like they cared.”

“Maybe if you had tried to explain?”

“Nah—just wanted to get out. And don’t ask—“ he quickly added on seeing Anna about to protest, “I’m not going to that hill again. Are we, Sven?”

The reindeer grunted in agreement.

“And besides,” Kristoff continued to Anna, “we’re going to look for your sister, not spread peace and love to a bunch of grouchy old Hammerheads wanting us off their hill.”

Anna slouched back in her seat, “You’re right. So, anywhere else we’re going past before Winkies’ Country?”

Kristoff hummed a little as he mulled over Anna’s question.

“Anna,” he said at last, a hint of mystery in his words, “you haven’t seen weird.”

“What?”

“You’ll see.”

With a flick of the reins, Kristoff urged Sven forward. The animal trotted up a little faster over the mountains with their crumbling rocks and puffs of swirling dust. Colourful purple, pink, and red flowers shivered in the pleasant wind, heads nodding and shaking as though in some conversation inaudible to human ears. Anna spotted hundreds of lupins poking their way from the soil, transforming earth into a carpet of beauty. She wanted to pick some for Elsa, but decided on second thought that she wouldn’t. There was probably a chance she’d accidentally crush the bouquet by sitting on them or dropping the flowers on the way. Even if by some miracle the flowers weren’t crushed or lost, they would certainly wilt well before she saw Elsa.

_Maybe Elsa saw them too,_ Anna consoled herself, _besides, we have them at home too._

With that reminder and assurance in mind, Anna was content to leave the flowers be.

 

The ride over the mountains was a long one, with frequent stops at little streams to sate thirst and fill growling stomachs. Anna—to Kristoff’s clear surprise and approval—declared they should save as much of the food as they could, lest it ran out before they found Elsa.

Anna, being the chatterbox she was, talked both Kristoff’s and Sven’s ears off about home and Elsa. When she talked of Elsa’s powers, she had a _very_ rapt audience. Kristoff babbled rapid-fire questions, Anna giggling as she told him to slow down and ask one at a time. She sneaked a peek back at him a couple times, grinning when she saw unhidden fascination and genuine interest in her praises of Elsa and her powers.

“I really want to see your sister’s magic!” Kristoff blurted, before wincing, looking very abashed, “I—I mean if you—and—she wouldn’t mind?”

Anna shook her head eagerly. “Not at all! She’s shy, but look out—she is very mischievous too.”

“Really?”

“You want me to tell you of all the ways she’s woken me up with her powers? Frost on my neck will get me up _fast._ Speaking of fast, she’s very clever at snowball fights—I’m lucky if I dodge one of Elsa’s snowballs.”

Kristoff sighed, sounding wistful. “I’d give anything to have a sister with magical powers.”

“Who says a brother can’t have powers too?” Anna pointed out, voice strident and matter-of-fact.

“Well, uh, yeah, you’re right.”

“You’re an only child?” Anna wanted to know.

“I guess you could say that.”

“Oh,” Anna couldn’t imagine not having a sister or brother to grow up with. “Does it get lonely?”

“Nah,” Kristoff said, “I’m not much keen on people. I was happy enough by myself on the farm.”

“Didn’t you have other children to play with?”

A disinterested grunt. “No interest in talking—I had my mum and dad and the animals and my lute to talk to.”

“You talk to your lute?”

“Serenade, actually,” Kristoff corrected, “I sing to it after all.”

“And the animals?”

“Uh—not so much. _Those_ I just yap to. No singing.”

“And they talk right back?”

“Of course!” Kristoff sounded downright affronted.

“What do they say?”

A long pause, during which Kristoff stared out before him, over Anna’s head. Then—

“Stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“Like, you know, how reindeer are better than people.”

Sven grunted loudly then as if to voice his resounding approval of Kristoff’s words.

“Dogs too,” the boy added, “they’ll always sense if you’re happy or down. Our old dog, Chuck, will just go right up and lick you if he knows you’re a bit sad or lonely.”

Anna shifted to look up at him, gaze unrelenting. “So you _do_ get lonely.”

“What?” Kristoff ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling it, “oh no, no no—never. Really.”

Personally, Anna fancied Kristoff was trying a little hard to convince anyone—including himself.

“Are you sure?”

“No—I mean _yes_ , yes I’m sure,” Kristoff insisted.

Sven vocalised again. Kristoff scoffed.

“Sven says he doesn’t believe me.”

Anna folded her arms, glancing over her shoulder at the boy. “I agree with him—who _wants_ to be alone?”

“Hey!” Kristoff protested, “I’m not alone! I _have_ friends.”

“You mean your lute?”

“Animals make great friends, you know. Have you got pets at all?”

“One cat—but he’s pretty grumpy and stays away from people. Sounds a lot like someone I know.”

“Excuse me? I’m _not_ grumpy.”

“Uh huh.”

“What do you say, Sven?” Kristoff addressed the reindeer. “Leave her here to walk to the Winkies’ Country?”

“What?” Anna gasped, “How would I—”

“Sh. Sven’s talking.” Kristoff fell quiet as though listening, followed soon by a sigh of defeat. “You win, again. ‘I find her entertaining and fun’ you say. Have it your way, Sven.”

Anna didn’t bother holding back her amusement at Kristoff’s “chat” with the reindeer.

“Are you going to talk to Sven all the time?”

“Of course—he’s a friend too.”

Anna twisted around in her seat to look at Kristoff. “You are the weirdest boy I’ve met,” she declared, a smile pinned to her face, “but you’re not bad either.”

“Uh, thanks,” Kristoff mumbled, face and neck flushing.

“So,” Anna said after a minute or so, “why are you helping me if you don’t like people?”

The boy was quiet for a long enough time that Anna decided he wasn’t answering the question. But then he finally spoke.

“Sven wouldn’t have forgiven me,” he confessed, “and I—he—wasn’t going to leave a girl lost in the Forest of Fighting Trees either.”

“And why now, after Glinda talked to us?”

“You’re not the only one who misses home.”

“And you want to see my sister’s ice powers.”

Kristoff laughed, hearty and sincere. “That too.”

 

After the long trek over the mountains, the duo once again found themselves on flat, grassy land. Judging by the sun’s low position in the west, it was already evening. Yet, on the horizon, Anna could see what looked like a great yellow country past the distant border. They wouldn’t make it there tonight, but tomorrow they would easily make it across that border into the Winkies’ land of yellow.

“So we’re stopping again for the night?”

“Looks like it,” Kristoff confirmed, “we’ll stop once we’ve passed through China Country—and believe me, I don’t mean the Asian country.”

“What else could you mean?”

“You’ll see.”

The only other “china” Anna could think of was delicate, glass-like material. But surely Kristoff hadn’t meant that either. As Anna would soon discover, this was exactly what he had meant.

 

As soon as Sven crossed into China Country, he began to step very lightly, for the town was delicate and tiny, no higher than Anna’s knee, had she been walking on foot. Anna’s mouth dropped open in astonishment as she stared at the china buildings, horses and buggies, monuments, fountains, animals, and people. Everything here was literally china. Little wonder Sven’s steps were so tentative, lest he broke something or someone. He was no bull in a china shop.

“Let’s walk for a bit,” Anna suggested, already turning over to slide off Sven’s back.

“Don’t touch anything,” Kristoff warned, “they hate cracks and chips.”

Anna hardly listened to Kristoff’s warning, bending down just enough to be able to see the little painted faces on delicate passers-by of pure china. Their lips were delicate lines, eyes blue or green, and all had pert little noses. Men wore delicate top hats while the women’s faces were framed by bonnets tied with large bows under their chins. Men, women, and children all had healthy rose-red blushes on pale cheeks. Delicate white gloves covered ladies’ hands and, if Anna looked carefully enough, she could see minute gold wedding rings on the men’s fingers.

_I want to take one home with me._

But then she thought of all the inanimate dolls in her world and decided it would be a terrible place to live for them. Imagine being the only living thing in a world where your people could not see, talk, or hear. Here, they were so content, blissful, and unaware of another world where dolls were all inanimate. What reason was there to destroy their happiness by bringing them into her world? They had lives, friends, and families here, just as people did in her own world. She spotted two women and a man enjoying a cup of tea at a table outside a café—whose signage even had the word “café” in miniscule print—and decided she could not bring herself to take any of them away from their home.

_They’re happy here,_ she told herself, _and they will miss their friends if taken from their home._

With that, Anna was content to leave them be.

 

Long shadows thinned and thinned until they disappeared once the sun had gone to bed for the night. Anna pretended not to be yawning as the twilight wore on—or she _tried_ pretending anyway. It didn’t seem to be working too well. No matter how hard she tried to _not_ yawn, her mouth opened wide anyway, eyes watering.

She froze mid-yawn as Kristoff steered Sven into a small clearing in a large woodsy area.

“This isn’t _those_ trees is it?”

“Don’t worry,” he assured, “these trees are harmless. We should be fine tonight.”

“Sure?”

“Hey, I don’t like the Forest of Fighting Trees any more than you do. We’re fine here.”

Both Kristoff and Anna jumped off Sven, the reindeer walking a few metres away to settle down and rest for the night. Just to make extra sure the trees were safe, Anna walked up to one, tapping on its trunk and lifting one or two twigs. The tree didn’t react, the only movement being the leaves fluttering in a soft breeze.

_Okay, guess we’re safe._

As Anna settled down to eat some of their rations, she realised that she had begun to trust Kristoff like a friend. He didn’t have to help her, and sure he shared his carrots with Sven—still gross—but he still stuck with Anna all this way. He could have gone back at any time, changed his mind about helping her rescue Elsa, and left her to her own devices. Yet, Kristoff stayed true, as grumpy as he could be.

_He’s not_ that _bad,_ Anna decided, _grumpy, but trustworthy. And he wants to go home too, just like me._

Anna reached to the bag with the skates in it, pulling one a little ways out of the bag to admire its pearl-coloured exterior. The silver blades gleamed with starlight, looking as though they had never been used in their lives. Maybe they never had—perhaps they had been waiting for just the right feet to come along. She carefully slid it back into the bag with its twin and the other pair for Elsa.

_We’re going home, Elsa, I promise._

 

It is surprising just what will turn an afternoon person like Anna into a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed morning person. No sooner did the sun peek over the distant hills, then Anna sat bolt upright, sleep all but forgotten. Kristoff was already up and feeding a carrot to Sven. Anna noticed he had already put the bags back on Sven as well.

“What time did you get up?”

Kristoff jumped, spinning around, relaxing when he saw Anna getting up, brushing off twigs and leaves.

“Ah, I’d say the equivalent of about five in the morning.” Kristoff admitted, “I’m used to it. Sometimes I have to get up at four thirty to help dad milk the cows.”

“ _Four thirty?_ ”

Kristoff laughed, entertained by Anna’s clear shock in her voice.

“Yeah, you don’t live on a farm, do you?”

Anna pulled out several twigs from her plaits. “How _do_ you get up that early?”

Kristoff shrugged. “Habit.”

“Even in winter?”

“Uh huh.”

“Does the cold bother you at all?” Anna asked as she went to give Sven a morning pat on his nose.

“Nah. You get used to it.” Kristoff hauled himself onto Sven’s back, holding out a hand to help Anna up as well. “Let’s get going.”

With a flick of the reins, Sven was off and running, Anna hanging on to the animal’s neck, the thrill of the race buzzing in her again. She could never get tired of racing on a reindeer.

_Yep, I’m going to be a horse racer when I grow up._

“Do you have horses at home?” Anna asked her new friend.

“We have a couple horses—one old one we found abandoned somewhere, and we named him Sitron because of his yellowish coat.”

“What does Sitron mean?”

“Norwegian for lemon. Our other one’s Silver, because I liked the name.”

“Silver’s a good name for a horse,” Anna complimented, “I’d race a horse named Silver. I mean—do you ride horses?”

“Sure I do—nearly every day.”

“I want to learn to ride a horse one day.”

“Come to my farm sometime then—if it’s not far from you.”

Anna and Kristoff discovered that they did not live too far from each other, just an hour’s drive apart. Anna declared that one way or another, she was going to learn how to ride a horse from him. At that, Kristoff slowed Sven to a stop, his hold loosening on the reins.

“Why don’t you give it a go?”

“Wait what?” Anna looked back at him, surprised to see a genuine grin and sparkling eyes. “You—you want me to—”

“Eyes forward, Anna,” Kristoff instructed, now placing the reins in Anna’s smaller hands. “Hold on to the reins like that—you got it—be firm but not too firm. Now dig in your heels— _gently_ —to make him walk.”

Anna dug in her heels until Sven began walking again.

“You got it,” Kristoff praised, “You’re already a natural. Want to make him go a little faster? Tell him to—gentle and firm. You can’t be scared.”

“Me? Scared?” Anna raised an eyebrow, side-eying him. “Why would I be scared?”

Kristoff chuckled. “I’ll never accuse you of ever being scared.”

“Good idea.”

With Kristoff’s instruction, Anna repositioned herself on Sven’s back, sitting up as straight as she could. She listened very closely to Kristoff’s guidance as they now broke into a canter for the land of yellow. In the distance, Anna spotted a very tall building in the shape of a corn cob, and even farther away, a very ancient, giant castle. Anticipation buzzing through her, she pointed out the sights to Kristoff.

“You see that castle? I think that’s where we’ll find Elsa!” Anna bounced with impatience in her seat. “We’re not far away anymore! We’re going to see her again!”

At long last, the duo reached the border of Winkie Country, Anna’s eyes wide as she took in everything. Once again, the corn-cob house held her attention, but now she noticed another peculiar building made entirely of tin.

“Wow,” she breathed, awed by the sight before her, “Winkie Country’s very…yellow.”

“Yeah,” Kristoff agreed, “they love yellow.”

“No kidding.”

“You ready?”

“I was _born_ ready!”

Kristoff laughed, infected by her charming enthusiasm.

“Then let’s go find your sister.”


	8. Chapter 8

Elsa didn’t feel the temperature’s minimal increase in the castle, but the Snow Queen holding vigil on her throne did. Pale hands twitched, nails digging into wood. A faint hiss escaped between clenched teeth and set jaws. Her eyes darted to the windows, although all she could see was the sky and tangled, untended “garden” around the castle.

“Elsa.”

Her voice cut through the air, echoing down the Lake of Reason. Elsa didn’t appear to hear her, still frozen stiff, hands barely moving over the puzzle.

“ _Elsa._ ”

The Snow Queen’s hard tone broke through. Elsa flinched, eyes wide and darting, before she caught sight of the woman on her throne. Wide eyes met another pair narrowed with suspicion. Waves of Antarctic cold washed off the Snow Queen.

“Yes?” Elsa asked.

“The air is warmer.”

Elsa looked around. Her blue hands lay limp on her lap. Her lips were blue, and her face was whiter than snow; not even the faintest sign of a healthy blush coloured her cheeks. Perhaps she was far too cold to feel warm anymore. Indeed, her heart had the barest few cells of warmth left.

“That warmth,” the Snow Queen repeated, “I believe someone unwanted has set foot in our land.”

“Unwanted?”

Ice shot up around her throne like daggers born from the earth.

“I have been warned before that the air will start warming again when a hero arrives to end my winter.”

The Snow Queen stood up, striding down the stairs, hands clenched at her sides. Ice heels click-clacked rapid-fire as she paced the floor at the bottom of the steps to the throne. Elsa didn’t notice much of this, for she had returned her attention to the puzzle, unheeding of her blue fingernails and hands. In her chest, her heart barely moved, beating no more than a few times a minute. She didn’t know how much time passed since leaving home, but nor did she want to leave. This was her home now. All her remaining thoughts, so jumbled and lethargic, were trained on solving this impossible riddle before her.

The absence of pacing heels bloomed in the frigid atmosphere. Elsa didn’t heed the approaching footsteps, nor the hand gripping her shoulder. The Snow Queen crouched to Elsa’s level, whispering close in her ear.

“You must understand, dear companion, why I have to leave you for a while until I can capture and imprison this hero who warms my land as I speak.”

Elsa showed no sign of having heard, completely under the woman’s mysterious spell.

“My child, do not fret—I shall not be absent long. I will ensure all will be well when I return.” Her hand stroked Elsa’s long braid as she spoke, fine needles of ice and frost sparking from her fingertips. “Now dear, I see the riddle still befuddles you. It is a mathematical concept both lines and rays share, for they never end. I will be by again in no time.”

The woman stood up, looking down at her little companion.

_Perhaps I will see her little sister at last. The prophecy mentioned the hero being a sister. Perhaps this is the sister Elsa spoke of._

The Snow Queen glided away on sure feet, breezing past statues of solid ice. As she passed the statues, the woman paused to examine them, eyes taking in every head and foot. Long, bony fingers traced over eyes, cheeks, and chins, before flexing closed. Whatever the Snow Queen had been searching for on the statues, she either did or did not see, but it satisfied her all the same.

A satisfied bounce to her step, the Snow Queen turned around at the exit, forming a giant barricade of ice a metre thick over the entrance to the throne room. It was of such strength that not even the most powerful axe could slice through it. Thick frost stuck to the ceiling and walls; the chandeliers’ candles’ wicks froze and windows glazed over with ice.

Outside her castle’s front door, she surveyed her land of ice and snow. There was barely any hint of life—people huddled indoors, preferring the warmth of a cosy fireplace to the frigid outdoors.

_I will not allow the hero’s journey to be so easy._

With a wave of her arms, she formed a giant sleigh of ice that could pull itself at her command. She had made this sleigh before, a reliable mode of transport that could take her from one end of Oz to the other without fail or falter.

“Perfect.”

Then, another swish of her arms, and an enormous grey cloud consumed the entire sky in minutes. Now the land lay in shadows and gloom as the ominous storm hovered over the Winkies’ country, having swallowed the bright blue sky whole. Now the wind picked up to a howl, bending the strongest trees almost double. It whined through clotheslines and snatched clothes pegged out on the lines to dry. Leaves, ripped from trees, tumbled through the air and slapped against the sides of buildings, roofs, and windows. A few tiny birds struggled to fly in the powerful wind, tumbling tail over beak, wings flailing uselessly.

Snow began falling, tossed about in the storm, quickly turning into a blizzard thick with white. Now the sky darkened even more, until the light was as dim as twilight. The temperature dropped sharp, at least ten degrees in just a few minutes. Already, chimneys puffed out far more smoke than they were before. Without doubt, Winkies were feeding more wood onto fires and poking glowing embers back to life. With such wind and cold, the Snow Queen was sure, either the hero would have no choice but to flee or she would die from exposure well before reaching the castle. A cold smile quirked up her lips, but it left her glacial blue eyes as cold as ever. She sashayed down the front steps and settled herself with full assurance into the sleigh of ice.

She leaned back, arms stretched on either side of her, closing her eyes, her head tilted to the sky. Snowflakes whirled around her, kissing her face and hair as they tumbled onto her. She allowed herself to revel in this wonderful snowstorm before she opened her eyes, straightening up in her seat.

“Sleigh of mine, take me into the land of the Winkies, for I wish to find the hero,” the Snow Queen commanded.

At once, the sleigh began moving, unhindered by the howling blizzard. She didn’t worry about the sleigh crashing in the dim light, for it always knew where to go and could avoid obstacles as easily as anyone walking in bright daylight. She didn’t have to worry about it being anything less than perfect—all it had to do was obey her command and she was satisfied.

_I will force the hero to return home and forbid her to set foot in my country ever again. She will never stop my winter nor take my little companion from me!_

The more she thought about it, the more she was convinced that the hero—or, rather, hero _ine_ —was Elsa’s sister. After all, who else but her would be looking for Elsa? The Snow Queen remembered well that Elsa had a little sister lost in Oz, although her mirror had done its work with putting a shard in her eyes and heart, so she would turn on Anna.

_Elsa won’t miss her sister—not while I can help it._

The castle grounds now melted away into the landscape of Winkie Country itself, the ancient building now behind her and shrinking fast as she sped away in the sleigh of ice. She allowed herself to laugh from sheer delight and pure confidence as her sleigh streaked across the ice, unhindered by the miserable snowstorm veiling Winkie Country in a curtain of white.

_Never underestimate the power of ice and snow!_

 

Meanwhile, inside the throne room barricaded with ice, Elsa began to freeze completely. Her hair had frosted over from the Snow Queen’s touch, her eyebrows and lashes white with ice. Her delicate little fingers and hands had turned into ice, indistinguishable from the statues behind her. It wasn’t just her hands that had turned into ice—so had her arms, legs, and rest of her body. Clothes stiffened and creaked as ice stitched and sewed into the fabric, rapidly consuming cloth. She could no longer move her fingers or toes, now completely stiffened with chill and frost.

_Forever…forever…forever…_

That one word echoed dully in her head, and she knew it was wrong, for nothing happened when she tried to form the pieces of ice into “forever”. And when her fingers stopped moving, frozen, she could no longer manipulate the shards of ice.

_Forever? Why forever?_

In her chest, her heart froze completely, as stiff and unyielding as the rest of Elsa.

It beat once.

It didn’t beat again.


	9. Chapter 9

One minute, the weather was calm as ever, without the slightest hint of an oncoming storm. Within seconds, Kristoff and Anna stopped in their tracks, gaping open-mouthed at the colossal, black storm-cloud engulfing what once had been limitless blue sky. Sven folded his ears back, muscles tensing, spooked by the unleashed violence of the storm to come. The weather tumbled from a pleasant warmth to such freezing cold that even Sven shuddered, despite his thick layer of fur. Anna sent a silent “thanks” to Glinda the Good for her foresight in protecting Anna and Kristoff from the cold. The wind escalated into a gale, whipping her hair into her face and pulling at her clothes. Her eyes streamed, squinting against the howling storm.

_That’s odd,_ Anna pondered, even as she huddled as close to Sven’s fur as she could, while Kristoff took hold of the reins, _the storm hit as soon as we came here._

“Do you think she knows?” Anna shouted at Kristoff over the gale. “I mean the Snow Queen. Does she know we’re here?”

“I don’t know!” Kristoff hollered above the raging blizzard. “Could be a coincidence!”

The world turned white, the reeling blizzard around them so thick they could only _just_ see Sven’s antlers before them. His antlers, shadowy and smudged in the low visibility, hung low to earth as the animal bowed his head against the tempest, straining to put one foot before the other in the forceful wind. Sleet and snow clung to his fur, dusting it in flecks of white. Sven understood he had to make it to the castle before it was too late.

_Come on, Sven,_ Anna encouraged the reindeer, _you can do this!_

Unable to see farther than a few inches in front of her, she could only hope that they were going in the right direction, toward the castle. She screwed her eyes shut against the snow smacking into her face, and would have chilled her to the bone were it not for Glinda’s protection.

_I hope we’re going in the right direction!_

Kristoff steered his reindeer in another direction, the gale intensifying as he did so. Swerving away into another direction, the wind calmed down. This continued for who knew how long—it could have been minutes, maybe even hours. But Anna’s mind was still sharp even despite the miserable maelstrom engulfing the little party. She paid very close attention to the behaviour of the wind—whenever Kristoff steered Sven in a particular direction, it doubled in its determination to drive them backward, out of the land.

_Could it be the Snow Queen?_

Anna attempted to shout her suspicions at Kristoff, but the wind snatched her words right out of her throat, never letting them make it past dry, chapped lips. Though she knew Glinda’s magic protected her from cold, it did not stop the uncomfortable feeling of her soaked dress clinging to her skin. The snow had soaked right through, dripping into her shoes as well. Her braids hung limp and damp with the horrible weather. She knew Kristoff had to be just as sopping wet as she was, but she also remembered Glinda’s spell of immunity to the cold she had bestowed upon them. But what about Sven?

_Oh no,_ Anna realised with a jolt of worry, _did Glinda protect Sven too? I really hope she did._

Kristoff steered his reindeer away in another direction, and, as before, the wind calmed down—strong, but not so blustering as it had been.

“Kristoff?” Anna called back.

“Yeah?”

“Could…could you steer Sven back in the direction we were heading?”

“Why?”

“I have a thought.”

“What does that have to do with the direction we’re heading in?”

“Just trust me!”

_I hope my hunch is correct,_ Anna prayed as Kristoff obediently reoriented Sven back to their previous path.

The wind abruptly screeched, batting at their faces and yanking at their hair, howling its rage in their ears.

_I thought so._

“That’s it!” Anna shouted so Kristoff could hear.

“What’s it?”

“That! The wind! It’s the Snow Queen!”

“What are you talking about?!” Kristoff sounded frustrated.

“Have you noticed how the wind reacts to us going in one _particular_ direction?”

“What are you talking about?”

Anna grumbled into Sven’s fur, her impatience taking over for a split-second.

“Kristoff—just turn Sven around in any direction and pay attention to the wind.”

Maybe he just wanted to humour her, or he heard the insistence in her voice, but Kristoff obeyed. He drew Sven to a halt and turned him around on the spot, slow and steady. Just as Anna predicted, the wind died down to a fresh breeze—nowhere near gale conditions—when Sven turned around. Only one direction caused the winds to forcibly push back on the reindeer and his two riders, screaming in their ears and shoving invisible hands in their faces.

“See!” Anna cried, “That must be the direction of the castle! Wind doesn’t usually behave like that!”

She was right—the wind began howling again as soon as they resumed heading forward on that one path.

“You’re probably right!” Kristoff agreed over the noise, “let’s go!”

They went, fighting against howling gales and whipping snowfall as Sven strained in what surely was the castle’s direction. All Anna could do was cover her face from the whipping wind, snuggling down into Sven’s damp fur as Kristoff spurred him on. Maybe it was her imagination, but Anna could swear the gale began blowing even stronger and Sven, as strong as he was, began to have trouble sprinting. He grunted and lowered his head even more, more determined than ever to resist the gale’s force.

_I hope you’re okay, Elsa!_ Anna pleaded, _We’re not far away now!_

And then suddenly they came to a halt right at the shores of a frozen river. Anna would have slipped off if Kristoff hadn’t caught her, settling her back in a more comfortable position. Chills ran up her spine at the sound of moaning and creaking of ice on the river. The wind softened, as though it believed the children to be stumped as to how to carry on across this unexpected body of water.

“Now what?” Anna wondered, sitting up a little. “And why isn’t anything thawing?”

“I don’t think you’d want to thaw the river—at least not until we’re across it,” Kristoff pointed out, not unreasonably.

“Oh, yeah. So we cross the river?”

“Hang on.”

Kristoff jumped down off Sven, hunching over against the blizzard, his hair now caked with snowflakes. He strained to place one foot in front of the other as he reached a tentative step onto the surface of the frozen river. Anna’s heart pounded in her chest, hoping with all her being that he would not fall under—she really, really didn’t want to lose her new friend.

_Careful, Kristoff!_ She warned silently, eyes never leaving his silhouette moving in the curtain of snow.

Anna chewed her bottom lip in worry as Kristoff disappeared into the storm; even Sven’s little vocalisations sounded worried. It felt like an eternity—but really just a few minutes—before Kristoff struggled his way back to Sven.

“It’s safe to cross,” he reported as he swung himself back on Sven, behind Anna. “Let’s go.”

“Can it hold Sven’s weight?”

“It’ll be fine.”

Anna took a deep breath. “Then let’s go.”

It wasn’t like Anna was scared to go across the river when they began to strike out for the other shore. She just hated how it was near impossible to see the other side, though Kristoff said he trusted Sven. Horses seemed to have an innate sense of the other shore, and he felt reindeers couldn’t be too dissimilar in this. Anna found herself more than willing to trust Kristoff—after all, he had lived on a farm all his life, and so would know way more about animals than she did.

Nevertheless, it was still frightening to stalk forward into the depths of the storm on a frozen river that, when thawed, would run wild with freezing currents freed from their frigid prison. Even Sven would find it near impossible to reach the other bank, let alone with two passengers astride his back. Anna prayed with all her might that they would make it safe and sound to the other side of the river. The wind was calmer in this direction—she could only hope they weren’t going in the opposite direction.

If _only_ they could see a thing through this blizzard! Hadn’t Glinda told them that the land would thaw as soon as they were in the land? Then why wasn’t it thawing? Did she have to think of something? Or someone? Wasn’t there a word Glinda wanted the two travellers to remember? It started with an “E”.

_Eternity!_ Anna suddenly remembered now— _eternity was the word._

“Eternity,” Anna said aloud into the blizzard, but nothing seemed to happen. She tried to say it again, this time with more feeling, and still nothing changed. The blizzard remained as powerful as ever, pushing them back with all its might.

“Love,” she whispered, and even she now felt the temperature warming a little, “Love—I love you, Elsa.”

A threatening crack splintered under Sven’s hooves, and behind Anna, Kristoff’s body went rigid, muscles tensed.

_Uh-oh,_ Anna thought, tensing in response.

The snow lessened, the wind dying down again, and the river seemed to mumble, like a man just waking up from sleep, but not opening his eyes yet to the bright morning light.

_As long as I think about Elsa…oh no._

Anna was a pretty bright spark, even at her age. Just thinking about her unflagging love for Elsa appeared to be fighting the storm, pressing it down in response. The wind wasn’t as harsh on her face, lashing into her eyes, and nor was the blizzard swirling around them as dizzyingly fast as it had been before. She was about to suggest making a run for it, when Kristoff shouted for her to hang on and next second, they were racing for their lives over a cracking and melting river. Anna tried her best to not think of Elsa, nor of love, but it was hard. It was like the more she tried _not_ to think of something—or someone—the more she _did_ think of them. It was like trying not to think of a pink elephant or a dancing tiger.

_Come on, Sven, faster!_ She encouraged the gentle reindeer, fingers again sinking into his thick fur. _You can do this!_

Anna’s heart nearly stopped when Sven stumbled once, only to start pounding along with his hooves once he caught himself and carried on running. Ordinarily, the rhythmic clip-clop of hooves on ice would have soothed Anna, but not now, not in the middle of a river—where was its other bank? How far away was secure, firm land?

_Crack!_

Anna’s eyes widened, heart hammering in her chest. Where did that _crack_ come from? Squinting down, she couldn’t see any signs of breaking ice under the reindeer’s feet, but she wasn’t assured. For all she knew, it could be right under Sven and she’d never see it.

“Kristoff? Did you hear that?”

“Faster, Sven!” Kristoff urged his friend, “Fast as you can!”

With one giant burst of speed, Sven hauled tail over the rest of the river, _just_ managing to leap out onto the other shore right as the ice flow broke under them. Anna released her breath, panting from both the exertion and adrenaline of racing over a melting river.

“That…was _way_ too close,” Anna commented, sitting up a little as the wind died down even more. “So…where’s the castle _now_?”

_Elsa…_ Anna added silently, _I love her magic, her compassion, her sweetness, her friendliness, her warm hugs…_

As Anna thought about all of Elsa’s wonderful qualities, both children noticed the wind dying down, and the temperature again rising by several degrees. Not many degrees, but significant enough for anyone to take notice. Visibility increased dramatically, though snow still blustered about the snow-laden land. Both Kristoff and Anna turned their heads this way and that in search of the castle. A curious castle entirely made of tin captivated Anna’s attention, and she forgot about looking for the castle. She tried to point out the peculiar little castle to Kristoff, but he didn’t hear or heard her, but didn’t wish to distract himself by answering.

“Ah hah, found it!” Kristoff crowed, pointing ahead of them.

“Found what?”

Kristoff raised an eyebrow at Anna, who was still fixated on the castle.

“The castle we’re looking for, of course. Anna, what are you looking at?”

“At _that_ ,” Anna pointed to the tin building.

“Oh yeah, that,” Kristoff echoed, clearly uninterested, merely just glancing over at it before encouraging Sven to keep moving forward. “The Tinman lives there.”

“The what?”

“The Tinman,” Kristoff repeated, “according to what I have heard, anyway.”

Anna finally dragged her attention away from the Tinman’s castle to the horizon directly ahead. Now, with visibility improved, she could see a giant shadow imprinted against the stormy sky. Even from here, she could see snow caking its spires and turrets, the windows-sills laden with even more of the white fluff.

“Elsa has _got_ to be in there, right?” Anna asked.

“That’s what Glinda said, didn’t she?”

Anna bit her lip, worry creasing her forehead. “I know, but…”

“You’re worried she might be wrong,” Kristoff guessed.

The little girl nodded, confirming Kristoff’s suspicions.

“Hey, Anna, don’t worry,” Kristoff tried to assure, “Glinda’s never wrong. She knows everything that happens here, and she won’t have led us wrong. We’re going to be fine.”

Anna forced herself to take a deep breath. Right now, she had to trust Kristoff, and Glinda. Kristoff knew more about the outdoors than she did, and his work on his home farm gave him skills she could only guess at. Kristoff was a good, loyal friend, and one of the things friends did best—as she well knew—was trust each other. She had to trust Kristoff, she had to trust Glinda.

_Okay, Anna,_ she encouraged herself, _everything’s going to be fine. Try and trust your new friends._

“I trust you, Kristoff,” she confessed aloud, “because you’re my friend.”

An awkward silence passed, Anna fretting after several seconds that she had said something terribly wrong. What if Kristoff didn’t see her as a friend too? What if—

“Thanks, Anna,” Kristoff said at last, completely sincere. “Glad you can trust me.”

“Do you think I’m a friend too?” Anna asked.

Another long pause, before Kristoff grunted his answer. But he could not fail to hold back the smile pulling wide at his mouth.

“I’ve put up with you long enough,” he said, “Now let’s eat, and then go look for your sister.”

 

After a lunch break—which wasn’t long, considering the wind deciding to pick up again—the travellers and reindeer resumed their journey. His energy back, Sven now raced with renewed vigour in the direction of the ancient castle in which the Wicked Witch of the West once lived. Anna hoped that they were not too late, nor that the Snow Queen would see them as they hared to the castle looming still several miles away.

A certain excitement took hold of Anna—they were now so _close_ , and she could hardly wait to be reunited with Elsa again. She remembered the ice skates still fastened to Sven’s harness, and puzzled again over the importance of the word “eternity”. Maybe it had something to do with Elsa. Maybe she had to be helped or freed, and this word would be the key that would unlock her door. A _figurative_ door, Anna hoped.

_You’re okay, Elsa, we’re nearly there._

But then, just a couple miles from the palace, the wind howled, forcing Anna to cling on to Sven, who had begun to struggle against this unexpected gale screaming from the castle grounds. He grunted in determination as he strove forward, head down, antlers pointed forward against the relapsed storm. Snow and sleet stuck in the kids’ hair and in their clothes as they pushed into the wind coming from the castle’s direction. It was as though something—or someone—didn’t want them to approach, pushing the intruders back with all its might. Anna felt tears stream from her eyes from the brash wind’s touch, shutting them against the driving snow.

_Come on, we can do this!_

She didn’t need to be a farming boy—or girl, in her case—to understand that even Sven was having trouble walking in the wind. His legs were stiff, body taut, head bowing almost to his knees in his attempt to push into the wind coming off the castle. Snow clung to his antlers, dusting them in the finest layer of white. But still the reindeer bravely strained on toward the castle, determined to see his two passengers to their destination. The sky disappeared in a thick curtain of snow billowing from all directions, but still they fought to stay on their path, with just the couple miles to traverse. Anna imagined forever passing before they would reach the castle in time to save her older sister.

“Anna!” Kristoff called to her, “Try thinking of Elsa again. Like you did before.”

_Love, I love my sister. I love how she makes me laugh, I love how she’s such a stinker sometimes, I love how she always names our snowmen Olaf, I love her so, so much._

The wind might have calmed down, but it still blew so hard it was impossible to tell at all. Nonetheless, the more Anna thought of all the thousand reasons why she loved Elsa, the less Sven strained against the weather. She kept her eyes shut, imagining Elsa’s beautiful blue eyes and lop-sided smile. Anna imagined the blonde plait down Elsa’s back, and recalled the navy headband holding her fringe out of her eyes.

All at once, the wind fell away, leaving Anna reeling inside as she slowly sat up, gaping at the castle before her. Snow still drifted around her, a lot of it now on the ground, but the wind had died away to a fresh breeze. They had successfully defied the wind that had howled around the perimeter, and now the path into the castle lay before them, cool and inviting.

“We did it,” Anna half-whispered, unable to believe it, “we _actually_ did it! We made it! Thank you, Kristoff, thank you Sven!”

And Anna reached down and gave Sven the tightest hug about his neck as she could. She took his little grunt as a sign that he accepted her gratitude. Then, Kristoff hopped off, followed by Anna. He didn’t manage to get a single word out before Anna threw her arms around him with a huge grin, thanking him over and over for his help. When she drew back, she nearly giggled, for his face had flushed as bright red as a setting sun.

“Uh…yeah, ahem. Thank you, I mean thank me. I mean— _ahem_ —you’re welcome.”

Anna grabbed one of his large hands, pulling him along behind her up the pathway toward the door.

“Okay, let’s go find Elsa! She has to be in here! Come on, come on, come _on!_ ”

With a few big yanks on the door handle, Anna dragged a door open, mouth dropping open as she stared at the hallway of ice and snow.

“Whoa…” she breathed, “that’s a lot of ice.”

The pair wandered through the hallways, both of them rubbing their arms unconsciously, though Glinda’s spell still protected them from the chill. Anna’s attention wandered over the jagged spikes of icicles hanging from the chandeliers and poking out of the frames of pictures on the walls. Somehow, the ice appeared uglier than Elsa’s own beautiful magic, and Anna knew this was undoubtedly the Snow Queen’s work.

“Elsa?” she called out, “Elsa, where are you? Elsa!”

Her voice echoed back from the ice shrouding the stone walls and floor, but Anna didn’t give up so easily. She called to Elsa as she walked, praying she would appear or at least answer. But no matter how much she called her name, no response came back. Elsa didn’t appear from around a corner or through a door. Kristoff paced alongside Anna, keeping quiet so he didn’t interrupt the little girl’s calls for her older sister.

And finally, they came to the throne room entrance with its barricade of ice. She would have walked face-first right into it had Kristoff not grabbed her and held her back, pointing out the icy wall covering the entrance. Anna gasped, struggling to get out of Kristoff’s grip as she spotted a _very_ familiar someone beyond the ice.

“Elsa!” she shouted, arms reaching toward the ice, “Elsa, we’re—I’m—here! Elsa!”

No response. Anna tried again, until Kristoff shushed her, suggesting that maybe the ice was too thick for her voice to get through, and perhaps there was another way into the room. Twisting free from Kristoff’s fingers, Anna ran to smack her hands against the ice, hoping that somehow her love would warm and melt the icy barricade.

“Come on, if there’s one thing that has to work, it’s this,” Anna pleaded to herself, “Think of happy memories with Elsa.”

She didn’t listen to Kristoff’s urges to go find another way into the throne room, determined that _somehow_ she would melt the ice. Glinda _had_ told them that a thaw would begin when she walked in. It worked before, and it had to work now.

And slowly, but surely, she felt the ice grow slippery under her palms, a wet dripping increasing as the barricade began to melt from the warmth of her love and affection for Elsa. A narrow passageway through the ice gradually widened all the way through to the other side, just wide enough for Kristoff and Anna to slip into and through. Wriggling and squirming, Anna managed to ease herself into the gap, trying to walk as quick as possible to the throne room. She didn’t take note of Kristoff’s sharp intake of breath, like something alarmed him, nor did she notice how unnaturally still Elsa was sitting on the ground.

“Elsa!” Anna shouted happily as she broke through the passageway, sprinting down toward her sister, “Elsa, I have found you at last!”

“Anna, wait—” Kristoff began, but Anna was already off, racing past the statues to her sister.

“Elsa!” Anna fell to her knees before Elsa and threw her arms around her, holding on tight, so, _so_ glad to see her at last. “Elsa, I’ve found you! We can go—”

That’s when she pulled back, and her smile vanished, replaced by a cry of horror. Elsa had frozen completely, her face unmoving, eyes unrecognising. Her skin was already blue, almost black in some places. Her chest did not rise and fall, nor did her eyes blink, nor her mouth move into a smile. She was _far_ too still for someone alive.

“E-Elsa?” Anna’s voice broke, a hand reaching to touch her sister’s face. She jerked her hand back, wincing with the painful cold bursting through her fingertips like frozen fireworks. “Elsa? Oh no, no, no…” Tears pooled in her eyes, knowing that she was too late. Her hands fell into her lap, twitching convulsively as she began sobbing without restraint, rubbing at her tears with red fists. “I’m sorry, I should’ve been quicker…I love you, Elsa.”

Giving herself up to her wrenching grief, knowing this was all her fault—she should’ve been quicker, for if she had been, Elsa would be alive—Anna reached her arms again around her frozen sister. Her eyes squeezed shut, tears dripping down her cheeks, rolling down to her chin as she sobbed her heart out.

_I love you, Elsa. I’m so sorry I wasn’t quick enough…this is my fault…what will I tell mummy and daddy? Elsa, please come back. Elsa, I want you back, please? Please come back…_

 


	10. Chapter 10

She didn’t know how long she stayed there embracing Elsa, sobbing because it was too late to save her. So deep in her grief was she that she didn’t see the gradual thaw beginning over Elsa’s heart. The warm thaw spread over Elsa’s chest, to her body, her limbs, and head, until she was completely thawed. She shifted, feeling Anna’s weight on her, the sobbing as her little sister clung on to her.

“Anna?”

Anna’s tears stopped abruptly as soon as she heard that voice—hardly daring to hope, she looked up to see Elsa gazing down at her, tears rolling down her own cheeks. Elsa smiled—a small smile—but to Anna, it was the most beautiful smile she had ever see from her adored older sister.

“Elsa?”

Elsa’s eyes widened, her hands flying to her mouth.

“Oh Anna, you’re okay—you’re _safe!_ ”

With that, Elsa threw her arms around Anna’s shoulders, breaking down into tears. Anna tightened her own hold, not letting go as long as Elsa needed the comfort, the assurance she was _really_ here.

“It’s okay, Elsa,” Anna whispered, patting her back gently, “I got you.”

The two sisters clung on to each other, not wanting to let go for a long time. Anna welcomed the warmth of Elsa’s firm embrace. She could also feel the drying dampness of tears on Elsa’s cheek as her cries calmed down into the occasional hiccough.

A cry of surprise, followed by several others, distracted the sisters’ attention from each other. They looked for the source of the murmurs and cries of surprise.

“Oh look!” Anna pointed at the front of the throne room.

Elsa gaped as all the “statues” that had graced the throne room now began to thaw, shaking warmth into hands and feet, and scratching heads in confusion and wonder. Many asked each other, “where are we?”

“Anna, I don’t know what’s going on, but I think they were frozen too.”

Anna almost jumped at hearing Kristoff’s voice—she’d clean forgotten he was in the room as well, his loyal reindeer at his side. He looked distinctly uncomfortable, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand as he shifted from foot to foot.

“What made them thaw, I wonder?” Elsa asked.

Something of what Glinda had told her raced back into Anna’s head.

“Oh, I know!” Anna declared with an authoritative nod, “Glinda the Good Witch told us—”

“Us?”

“Oh, my friends Kristoff and Sven—Sven’s the reindeer—helped me. They are from our world too. Anyway, Glinda the Good said that love will thaw. And that when I came here, the land would thaw.”

But when Elsa spoke again, very much puzzled, Anna had no idea if she had heard what she had just said.

“I still have to figure out the puzzle.”

“Puzzle?” Anna asked over the hub-bub of Munchkins exiting through the throne room’s door.

Elsa bit her lip, looking down at her feet. She drew her hands together across her body, thumbs rubbing slow circles on the backs of her hands.

“The Snow Queen told me I had to solve this puzzle,” Elsa explained, “something to do with the nature of rays and lines in geometry.”

“Eternity!” Anna blurted, “That’s what Glinda the Good said, and I think this is the word that will help.”

Now Elsa’s face lit up with a big smile, her eyes glittering as the answer became clear in her own head.

“Of course!” she agreed, “It’s eternity. You _have_ been paying attention in our classes.”

“Oh, a little bit, but not as much as you.” Anna bounced on the balls of her feet, impatient to get started on the puzzle. “Come on, let’s solve this!”

Fearing she would accidentally fall into the lake, Elsa grabbed Anna’s arms, holding her back.

“Careful,” Elsa warned. “The lake is probably really, really cold and deep. Let’s not fall in.”

Together, the two sisters settled down on the stony, non-frozen floor, their nimble fingers manipulating the pieces of ice into the word, _eternity_. When they successfully completed the final letter, the two sisters grabbed each other’s hands, dancing with sheer joy. So much joy burst into the room with the radiance of a summer’s sunshine, that the pieces of ice began to dance too. Eternity had its own little charming choreography. They still paraded around as Elsa and Anna calmed down again to wonder about the Snow Queen’s fate and how they would return home again. One of the Munchkins happened to overhear Anna asking the question of the Snow Queen’s fate, and hung back at the door to answer.

“My dear girls,” he addressed the two, “As she is made of pure ice and snow and frost, she will melt. Thanks to your intervention, we will no longer bear the presence of the woman who claimed herself a queen of this land. I wish you well and all the best in returning home.”

With a deep bow, the last Munchkin exited the room, leaving behind three children and a reindeer. The ice particles that had been dancing before had now calmed down, settling back onto the lake, still forming the word eternity.

“Did Glinda the Good tell you anything about how to get home again?” Elsa queried of Anna.

Anna nodded eagerly. “Yes—she gave us all—except Sven, because he has to stay here—ice-skates that we might use to take us home again. All we have to do is wear them and link arms and tell ourselves there is no place like home. Kristoff doesn’t live far from us, Elsa—only about an hour’s drive.”

Elsa turned to address Kristoff with a little nod. “Thank you for looking after my sister.”

Kristoff pulled an abashed grin, “Well, not that she _needed_ much looking after. She can take care of herself quite well.”

“Really?” Anna asked, pleasantly surprised by his compliment.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it,” Kristoff said, “What would be the point of that?”

“Well, thank _you_ for being a good friend,” Anna returned a compliment in kind, “And helping me find Elsa again.”

“Hey, no problem, you would still be in that forest if it weren’t for me.”

“I’d have found my way out!” Anna huffed, expression defiant.

“Sure.”

“Yeah, I’m _sure_.”

Elsa cleared her throat, interrupting the two friends’ battle of retorts.

“So, shall we go back home?” Elsa asked, “Where are the ice skates?”

“Huh?” Anna blinked up at her sister.

“You said something about ice skates.”

“Oh! Yeah, I forgot! Good thing you helped me remember, Elsa.”

Kristoff held up a hand, silently telling the sisters to stay where they were as he pulled off the bag containing the three pairs of ice skates, gleaming and white. But instead of coming straight to the sisters, he paused, putting down the bag as he raised a hand to gently pet Sven, his expression suddenly very sombre. It hit Anna then that Kristoff was bidding his reindeer pal a sad final farewell. Perhaps her sadness showed, for Elsa wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling Anna close in a comforting hug.

“Hey,” she whispered, “you okay?”

Anna wrapped her own arms around Elsa, feeling a little better now that her older sister was hugging her.

“Yeah,” she said into Elsa’s dress, “I’m sad because Kristoff has to say goodbye to his friend. The reindeer is his friend.”

Elsa kissed the top of Anna’s head, but didn’t say anything. After about a minute, when Kristoff finally finished his goodbyes to Sven, Anna gently pulled herself out of the hug. She nearly bowled Kristoff over as she barraged into him, arms flung around him in a big hug. Kristoff yelped, stumbling back a couple steps, awkwardly patting Anna on her head.

“There, there,” he gasped, “what’s this all about?”

Anna stepped out of the impromptu embrace, staring up at her friend’s rapidly reddening face.

“Thought you needed a hug after saying goodbye.”

“Uh, that, a hug. I mean thanks. Appreciated.” Kristoff stammered, scuffing his feet on the thawed floor. “Um, home—shall we go? I mean, we got the ice-skates here.” Kristoff nudged the bag with the toe of his shoe.

Anna immediately bent down and yanked the bag open, pulling out the ice-skates one at a time and handing them around until everyone—including herself—had a pair. She gazed down at her own pair, gleaming and brand new. Now she and Elsa could finally go home again, and so could Kristoff. He would likely end up back at his farm, but that was okay—she could always visit him. Elsa would visit with her too, of course, and show him all the stuff she could do with her snow magic.

_But we can do it now, can’t we?_

“Elsa?” Anna tugged on her big sister’s sleeve, “Do the magic, please? Kristoff wants to see!”

Elsa’s characteristic lop-sided grin returned, her eyes glittering.

“Always. Watch this.”

With a dramatic flourish of her hands, Elsa sent frost and ice over the floor of the room like a very icy and cold carpet. Kristoff’s mouth fell open, his shoulders sagging from sheer awe.

“Amazing,” he marvelled, “I might cry.”

“Go ahead,” Anna told him, “We won’t judge.”

The three children donned the ice-skates, which all fitted their feet perfectly. It was like they were literally made to fit snugly, no matter how little or big the wearer’s feet were. No doubt, Glinda had managed to use her own magic to make sure that the ice-skates would fit on their feet without worrying about them being too tight or loose.

Their ice-skates snug on their feet, the children held hands, carefully testing the efficiency of their silver blades. They took their time, skating around the throne room, allowing themselves a little bit of fun before going home. Elsa led the way, her snow flurries darting from warm fingertips. Unlike the Snow Queen’s blizzard, Elsa’s snow fell gentle and soft from the ceiling. Anna wanted to sing with the sheer delight of skating alongside her sister and new friend. Even Sven joined in the fun, sliding along with the children.

But as with all good things, this fun too came to its own end. Knowing they had to get back home, the three slowed to a standstill near the centre of the throne room. They linked arms, taking deep breaths to prepare themselves for whatever was to come very soon.

“Are you ready?” Elsa asked.

“I think so,” Kristoff affirmed.

“Me too,” Anna agreed.

Anna reminded them again what Glinda had instructed them to do once they were ready to go back home. Using a little push of wind, Elsa started turning them around in their first spin.

“Think of home,” Anna reminded, shutting her eyes tight, imagining her beloved home with its garden and cat, “There is no place like home. There is no place like home. There is no place like home…”

Three times, they repeated this phrase, and three times they spun around on the spot. Anna’s arm tightened around Elsa’s, feeling a little hand squeeze in response.

“I won’t let you go,” Elsa promised, just as a warm swell of wind—feeling very much like a huge swell of ocean wave—lifted them high into the air.

This warm swell of air carried all three children on their way home, and it didn’t feel like long before Anna and Elsa found their feet touch earth once again. Opening her eyes gradually, Anna shouted with joy at seeing their gorgeous old garden with its familiar flowers and plants once more. The sky above was blue, without a single cloud in sight. The sun shone bright and confident, completely sure that no clouds would occlude it from view today.

But most importantly of all, Elsa was once again at Anna’s side. Both sisters gazed at each other, their smiles unrestrained, and nor, naturally, was the embrace they shared immediately thereafter, glad to be home again.

“Home sweet home, Anna,” Elsa murmured, squeezing her little sister’s shoulders in their embrace.

“I’m glad to be home,” Anna agreed, closing her eyes, so she could fully enjoy Elsa’s hug without distraction, “And I think Kristoff will be too.”

 _We’ll visit you soon, Kristoff,_ Anna promised from the depths of her heart, _And Elsa will show you everything her magic can do._

Anna knew she would keep the promise to her new friend, Kristoff. And she knew that, with time, he and Elsa would be very good friends too.

_I’m glad to be home._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait--but this chapter was fighting me every step of the way, refusing to co-operate, most especially as my Muses had all decided to turn their backs on the story, refusing to give me more inspiration. However, despite my writing Muses' misbehaviour, I have managed to complete this story, with this being the final chapter, followed by a short little epilogue from Kristoff's POV.


	11. Epilogue

Kristoff opened his eyes, peeking through his eyelashes to find that he had landed, feet first, back on his home farm. He exhaled, relieved that he had made it—and hopefully so had Anna and Elsa—back to his world, his home, in one piece. Raking the fingers of one hand through his hair, he turned around on the spot, taking in the familiar farm that was his home. He couldn’t help but smile—the open air, fathomless blue sky, bright red barn, and simple house were all so wonderful and perfect. He couldn’t ask for a better home—he had his loving parents and all the animals he could talk to.

Yet, his heart ached, a hole left by an absent friend. He knew Glinda was right—he could not have taken a reindeer back home, but it didn’t mean he wouldn’t miss Sven. Sven the reindeer had been just as wonderful a friend as any of the critters here in this patch of countryside he called home. He could meet all the reindeers in the world, and still he would not find one quite like Sven. Even if he found a reindeer who looked exactly like Sven, right down to the last antler, he would not be the same.

Realising he had not moved from the same spot for a while, Kristoff forced himself to start moving in the direction of his house. He couldn’t see whether his parents were home or away—possibly still looking for their beloved son. He tried not to imagine his mother sitting at the table, deep in prayer, as she struggled not to cry, fearing the worst. He tried not to imagine his father in the stables, his mouth set in a grim line as he lifted up feet of horses to clean dirt from their soles and hooves. Kristoff wished he could just push out the insistent scene in his imagination of his mother smoothing out the blankets of his bed, tidied and unslept in for…

_How long have I been gone?!_

Urgency rippled through Kristoff, and he broke out into a run. His legs pumped, feet sprinting over tall grass, stumbling over unseen uneven surfaces under his soles. He wanted to go as fast as possible, to try and find his parents, before they gave him up for lost.

_I’m here, I’m home!_

The boy tried his best to ignore a puppy that suddenly appeared out of nowhere to run alongside him. The last thing he needed was a strange puppy tagging alongside him, barking with every sprint the boy took. Reaching the fence, Kristoff climbed over it and leaped back down on the grass, the puppy narrowly missing his boots when he landed. But he must have missed something hidden in the grass, because next second, Kristoff tripped up, sprawling face down on the ground. The puppy yipped with unnecessary cheer, snuffling and licking eagerly at the boy’s face.

“Get off…” he grumbled, spitting out dirt and grass, “I’m fine.”

The puppy barked at him, sitting back on its haunches with wagging tail and lolling tongue. Kristoff sat up, brushing off dirt from his sleeves and neck.

“Yeah, I know,” Kristoff mumbled, “I’m a mess.”

The puppy barked again, and now Kristoff took a good look at it, taking in its dusty grey short-haired fur and bright, dark brown eyes. Its short tail wagged so hard it was a blur, and there was _something_ about the animal that seemed familiar to Kristoff.

_Have I seen this puppy before?_

He couldn’t recall having had a puppy like this on the farm, and Kristoff couldn’t see any indication it belonged to anyone. There was no collar nor tag to identify where the little creature had escaped from.

“Where did you come from?” Kristoff asked the puppy as he stood up, dusting off his trousers. He bent down to pick up the squirming critter, unable to help a grin as the little dog barked merrily again. “Why’re you following me?”

The puppy woofed again, this time more insistent, cocking its head like it was questioning the boy.

“What do you mean where did _I_ come from?” Kristoff asked the puppy, “I just came from a strange land, where I found new friends.”

On “new friends”, the puppy barked again, tail wagging so hard that its body squirmed with the energy of it.

“I mean, I know where Anna and Elsa—what?”

For the puppy had barked twice in succession as soon as Kristoff had said the names.

 _Coincidence,_ he told himself.

“Can you imagine—Anna and Elsa live so close by!”

Once again, the puppy woofed as soon as Kristoff mentioned the sisters’ names.

“And Glinda—“ here, there was another bark, “she told me Sven would come back somehow, but I don’t see how that’s possible. I mean, Sven…”

His voice trailed off, and now _he_ cocked his head at the puppy, for it had responded to every one of the names. Yet, it had not responded so strongly as it did to the name, “Sven”. Here, its body almost squirmed right out of Kristoff’s large hands.

_Was Glinda…did Glinda mean…_

“Sven?” he questioned cautiously, and this time, the puppy really _did_ manage to squirm right out of Kristoff’s hands. Fortunately, the puppy bounced when it hit the ground, returning to its feet like nothing had happened. “Sven?”

The puppy barked, now pouncing at Kristoff’s shoes, trying to climb up one of his trouser legs. Kristoff forced himself to look closer at the puppy—and there, he saw it, a little marking on its head between the ears.

The marking looked exactly like the silhouette of an antler.

Jubilance overwhelming his heart, Kristoff scooped up the puppy—Sven—and held him high above his head, never taking his eyes off his new pet. His parents would have no choice but to let Kristoff keep him.

“Sven!” he cried aloud, overjoyed that he had his friend again, even in dog form, “You’re really, really here! My best friend!”

There was not a happier boy than Kristoff, nor a happier puppy than Sven, anywhere in the world on this perfect, wonderful, and sunny afternoon. Soon, he would go to the home of Anna and Elsa, his two new friends, and show them his returned companion. Whether as a dog or as a reindeer, Kristoff’s heart was gladdened to know that Sven was still with him, and would be for a very long time.

And with that happy ending, it is time to draw the story of a farm boy, a reindeer-turned-puppy, and two darling little sisters, to its final closure. Let us farewell them, and may their stories be told again and again for generations to come.  

 

**THE END**

 

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic will have several elements from the original "The Snow Queen" story, and these will be strongly alluded to or used during this story. If you are not familiar with "The Snow Queen", I highly recommend you find a good summary or the story itself online somewhere. 
> 
> I also want to take one last moment to also offer a big thank you to DreamsWanderer for helping me brainstorm what to do with this crossover/AU. Thank you, again!


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